


NEED

by Nikki66



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arguing, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Magic, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7862353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikki66/pseuds/Nikki66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Danarius is killed, an unexpected magic threatens Fenris.<br/>Anders finds himself required to administer an unusual treatment, while searching for a cure for the elf’s insidious affliction.<br/>Is this magic only what it seems, or is there something more at work?</p><p>Starts just a little dark, quickly steps into the light.</p><p>Fenders smut.<br/>Fenders smut.<br/>Also, some Fenders smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Healer's Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> This story is woven around sex. A lot of sex. That’s all it was supposed to be, was sex. Not a story, at all. But, I don’t know... stuff-and-things happened, and there was a story. 
> 
> This was just going to be a series of questionable, dirty, Fenders’ smut drabbles. You know, to let-off some steam after completing a very long, happy, loving, sloooooow burn story filled with fluff. 
> 
> Then, it became a story, all on its own. Not my usual style, because there’s a lot of dub-con. But, even the dub-con is really fairly-con. You’ll see what I mean. The magic that at first seems so unlikely actually grew into an interesting mystery. The sex grew into... well, just read. ;-)

The elf was in pain. 

The elf was also being a pain; which was nothing new.

Hawke had dragged Anders from his clinic, late in the evening, and up to the surly elf’s mansion. Anders had protested; Fenris didn’t come to him for healing outside of battle, and the mage had no desire to visit the elf who so often maligned and ridiculed him. He had work to do, important work regarding the plight of mages. But, Hawke had been insistent, and Anders owed the man a great deal. 

He’d found Fenris in his bed, sweating, breathing hard, his jaw clenched against obvious pain. He was apparently nude under the waist-high covers, and a casual glance from several feet away showed no injuries. Fenris scowled the moment he saw Anders, and refused examination.

“You can’t help. Just leave. I don’t want you here.” The elf’s words were growled more than spoken. Anders could see the tension in his body as he fought to control the pain.

“There you go,” Anders said to Hawke, and turned to make the long journey back to his clinic. He was irritated to have been dragged up to Hightown for an argument. He hated being out in the city late at night. The streets were empty, and a lone apostate stood out to any passing templars. He had arrangements to make, and a formula to complete.

“Fenris, you need to tell him. This is only getting worse.” A gripping spasm of pain seemed to sway the elf more than Hawke had.

“Magic,” the elf spat. “Magic that Danarius used to control me.”

Anders was surprised. “You killed him, yesterday, didn’t you? When a mage dies, any passive magic he’s got in place should dissipate.”

Fenris spasmed again, a tight groan swallowed as he tried to control himself. Anders’ mind picked-up the mystery, and began to pick it apart. 

“Would Danarius use a spell to activate this magic, when you were with him?”

Fenris nodded, another spasm of pain shuddering his body.

“This isn’t passive magic, it’s active,” Anders said. “The spell that kept it controlled--locked down--was passive. That’s what dissipated when Danarius died.” 

Hawke watched the elf biting back pain. “Can you control it, Anders? Lock it down, again?”

Anders shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t even know what sort of magic it is. I suppose--”

His words were cut-off by the elf’s barely muffled cry of pain.

Hawke grabbed the elf by the shoulders. “Fenris! You need to let him examine you. You’re burning up! This is going to kill you.”

Even in his agony, the elf glared at Anders. Another shout tore from his lips as a violent spasm wracked his body. When it had passed, the exhausted elf finally nodded.

“Leave, Hawke. I’ll talk to the mage.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Go.”

Giving them both a worried glance, the warrior nodded and left the room. 

Anders listened for the front door to close, then turned to the suffering elf. “What’s so secret that you’d go through this, rather than reveal its cause?”

“You will swear to keep this to yourself.”

“Of course. That’s part of being a healer.” He watched as another spasm of pain shook the elf’s body. Panting through the aftermath, Fenris glared at him.

“This... magic... compelled me to... pleasure Danarius.”

“Pleasure? This looks like agony."

Fenris sneered. “It didn’t give me pleasure, fool. It gave me need. Terrible need.” He bit his lips together as yet another spasm coursed through him. “Danarius wanted me to grovel for his use. If I touched him, the pain became pleasure. If not, it grew into... this.”

Anders’ breath blew out of him. “Maker’s breath. He compelled you to desire him to avoid pain?”

“Not merely desire. The need must be slaked, entirely.”

“What slakes the need?” He had a feeling he knew exactly what slaked it, but he needed to be sure, before he tried to treat this problem.

The elf was growing fatigued, his voice tired. “It can be stopped three ways. The first; the magic can be... what you said... locked by a spell.”

“A spell we don’t know. What’s next?”

“Climactic energy from both myself, and Danarius, would disrupt it.”

Maker’s breath. What a disgusting piece of magic. Who in the Void would do this to a person? He sighed. Danarius, obviously.

“And, he’s dead.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” He’d no sooner said the words than he was gripped in another wave of agony. Anders’ retort died on his lips. Hawke had been correct in his assessment. The elf was going to over-stress from the pain. He really could die.

Fenris moaned, as pathetic and hopeless a sound as Anders had ever heard. He picked up a glass of water sitting near the bed, and helped the elf sit up enough to take a drink. Fenris sucked it down, then lay back, glaring at him.

“Go ahead. Amuse yourself at my expense.”

“There’s nothing amusing about rape,” Anders said, quietly. “This is a perverse use of magic. He was a foul man, and I’m glad you killed him.” Fenris’ glare softened, and became uncertain. “What’s the third option?”

“If this goes on long enough, I will die. Problem solved.”

“Maker’s balls. That’s no option.”

Fenris made a feeble attempt at a sneer. “That remains to be seen.”

“Look, I can try a diagnostic spell. See if I can get a feel for the magic used. Maybe I can identify it, and do... something.”

The elf didn’t speak, but nodded weakly.

“I won’t do anything without discussing it with you, first. This is just a scouting trip.”

Another nod, and Anders pulled-up his powers. He carefully sent tendrils of magic into the elf. Fenris’ entire system was throwing-out energy, the effects of the magic hiding it from view, much like smoke obscuring a fire. 

Unexpectedly, he felt a strong, reactive pulse of power from within the elf. It surged through the connection of the diagnostic spell, into the mage, and then back to the elf. Anders grunted as he felt the subtle invasion. Suddenly, Fenris was arching off the bed, wailing. Anders broke their magical connection and watched as the elf dropped back to the bed, gasping.

“I’m sorry! I had no idea it would--”

“Touch me....” the elf moaned.

“What??”

A lyrium-lined hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. Immediately, Fenris’ expression changed from one of agony, to one of bliss. Anders’ hand was drawn to the elf’s mouth, and two fingers sucked between his lips. Shocked, frozen with disbelief, it took a few beats before Anders tore his hand away.

“What the...?”

Fenris sat up, green eyes blazing, and pulled him into a hot, desperate kiss. Anders lurched from his grip, and stood out of arms’ reach.

“Fenris! What in the Void??”

The elf groaned in misery. “I need....”

Shit. Shit. Shit. This was reciprocal magic. It connected two parties. That’s why it needed two specific energies to discharge. With Danarius dead, the magic sought a second connection. Which meant it was now Anders whom Fenris was compelled to please; his touch that turned pain to pleasure. He quailed at the implications.

“Fenris... I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen.” 

“This won’t end... please....” The appeal in the elf’s eyes was like no expression he’d seen on that face, before. 

“I can’t. Don’t you understand? I can’t.” This wasn’t true want. This was compelled by the spell, it was no different than when Danarius had used it. 

The desire in the elf’s eyes suddenly turned to agony. Falling back to the mattress, Fenris groaned with the pain afflicting him. Anders thrashed in his mind. This man was dying, and only he had the power to prevent it. Reaching out, he placed his hand on the elf’s chest. 

Again, the pain was immediately replaced with ardor. 

“Make it stop....” came the whispered plea.

“Fenris, I am not a rapist, whatever else you may think of me.”

“I need....” Fenris tossed his head, hands gripping the mage’s hand on his chest.

“Even if I tried, I can’t just.... I can’t perform on command.”

With a groan, Fenris nodded. “Then, I will die.” He let loose of Anders’ hand. Before a moment had passed, he was again crying out with wracking pain.

Anders couldn’t bear it. He began tearing at his robes. 

“Fenris, I need you to tell me that you want me to do this....”

“I want you to do this,” the elf said through clenched teeth. 

“What do you need me to do?” He knelt on the edge of the bed in his tunic and trousers, with absolutely no idea how this was even happening to him. No idea how he was going to both get an erection, and reach climax, in order to deactivate the magic that held Fenris in its grip.

Fenris sat up, pulled him roughly to him, and plundered his mouth. With a startled “Mpf!” Anders found himself being very thoroughly kissed. Eyes wide, hands held out to the side in an effort not to touch the elf any more than necessary, the mage was seduced.

Anders tried to keep track of what was happening, but his mind was spinning. The elf--the surly, broody, angry elf who hated him--was wrapped about his body, kissing him senseless. And, doing it well. No one had ever kissed him like this. Desperate, needy, wanting. 

Anders lost his balance as he was pulled more closely, and his hands landed on the bare shoulders. Fenris loosed his lips as his neck arched back and he moaned in obvious rapture. Simply from his touch? 

“Fenris... what... how...?”

Anders felt a hand slipping inside his waistline, worming its way into his smallclothes. He wasn’t aroused, not in the least. This was hardly a stimulating experience. None of this was good, or pleasurable, or right.

“Look... I’m not sure....”

The elf knelt up, flipped him onto his back, and snapped his drawstring. His trousers were yanked to his knees, and his flaccid shaft sucked into Fenris’ mouth before he could reorient himself. 

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. This was awful. If this didn’t happen, Fenris was going to suffer an agonizing death. This was mutual rape; that’s what it was. Neither wanted it, but both were compelled to do it.

His self-recrimination was interrupted by a finger, slick with saliva, questing into his nether passage. With uncanny skill, that finger found, and stroked, his prostate.

“Maker preserve me,” he whispered. He felt a bloom of reluctant pleasure spread outward from his sweet spot. His flesh, still in the elf’s hot mouth, twitched. Fenris groaned around his mouthful at the slight reaction. Like it or not, Anders was getting hard. The attentions he was receiving were intense, skilled, and the first he’d had in a very long time. His body didn’t care what the circumstances were.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “So sorry.”

He couldn’t stop the rise, the feeling, the pleasure that grew. He panted, eyes cracked to see the elf’s head bobbing over his now hard shaft, timed with his finger’s strokes inside his body. Maker forgive him, he wanted more. 

Before he realized what was happening, the elf had straddled his pelvis, and with a wanton cry, impaled his body on the mage's fully erect cock. Anders bit back a surprised shout, the tight friction intense.

He grabbed at the elf’s hips, tried to stop him from hurting himself, unprepared as his body was. But, Fenris was already riding him hard, oblivious to anything but the pleasure he obviously felt. It was too dry, chafing. Anders cast a spell he’d not used in a long time, to lubricate Fenris’ channel. Both he and the elf groaned, the slick, tight heat unbearably compelling. 

His hands on the elf’s hips no longer tried to stop Fenris’ movements, but instead helped him rise and fall, pushed and pulled him against the thrust of Anders’ pelvis. Dark, unwanted pleasure, coiled and hot, was wrapped about him, drawing his sack tight, making his shaft pulse. 

He moaned. How could he feel pleasure in this act? Yet, he did. Such pleasure.

Fenris was beyond words, his body writhing against his, hips undulating in the most obscene, glorious rhythm. The elf’s face was pure, unadulterated lust; mouth open, face slack, hair plastered to his skin with sweat. Never would Anders have imagined Fenris could look so erotic.

“I’m gonna... oh, I’m so close....” Anders whispered. He was going to come. He was raping this elf, fucking him, while Fenris was in a state of extremis. He would burn in the Void for all eternity for this... yet....

“Argghhhhhhhhh!” He pulsed with the climax that rocked through him, filling the elf with his seed. Fenris spasmed as his lyrium-lined cock shot his juices, covering the mage’s belly. He was surprised when Fenris collapsed forward on him, and lay gasping. He’d have expected him to put distance between them as quickly as possible. Yet, he seemed perfectly content to rest his head on his chest, and let the twitching of his body fade away.

They lay this way for long moments, breaths slowing. Anders swallowed, his heart pounding from something other than the climax they’d shared. 

He spoke, carefully and quietly. “Are you... alright?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

He detected no anger, outrage, not even upset, in the elf’s short answers. Yet, he felt it growing in himself.

“I’m sorry.” Such insufficient words.

“Why?”

“Because... I... Fenris, I just raped you.” He felt his throat growing thick. This was not who he was. This was not what a healer did. This was not why he’d accompanied Hawke here, tonight. He was lying on the elf’s bed, his trousers at his knees, with his dick still in Fenris’ body. And, he’d taken pleasure in it. He swiped his hands at his eyes. And, why the fuck hadn’t Justice stopped him?

“You didn’t,” Fenris replied, sitting up, still straddling his body. “You did what... are you weeping?”

“No.”

“You are. Because you believe you took me against my will?” The elf surprised Anders by reaching a careful finger to his face, and touching the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. 

“I can’t talk about this while I’m still inside you,” he said gruffly, helping the elf to disengage and move off of him. He hurriedly pulled his trousers up, sighing at the snapped drawstring.

“Why does this upset you?” Fenris asked. “You did what needed to be done.”

“Because, believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of molesting my patients,” he spat. “Or, anyone else, for that matter.”

“I recall you had no interest in this, until I stimulated your body.”

“That doesn’t excuse my actions.” Anders sniffed, and dried his face on his sleeve.

Fenris lay back, and stared at the broken ceiling above his head. He was still stark naked, but seemed to have no concern for his nudity. When he spoke, his voice was soft, bitter. “Nearly a decade of freedom, and again I beg and grovel for a mage’s touch. I shall never be free of slavery. I have broken Danarius’ hold on me, only to be thrust into an abomination’s thrall.” 

“You’re not in my thrall. We ended the spell. We can go our separate ways, and forget this ever happened.” He stood and pulled on his robes.

Fenris looked at him incredulously. “It’s not ended, mage.”

Anders hesitated. “... what do you mean?”

“We have only disrupted the magic, not ended it. Without the spell to contain it, the need will come upon me, again.”

“It’s just going to keep happening??” His heart sank. 

“Yes. It will build again, as before... with only your pleasure as my relief.” His expression left no question as to his opinion of that.

Anders’ mouth worked silently. He’d need to do this, again? Repeatedly? Unless they could remove the magic, or lock it, again. He had to figure out how to do just that.

“I’ll find a way. I will, Fenris. I’ll find a way to either get it out of you, or contain it. I swear.”

“You make very grand promises, mage. How do you intend to keep them?”

“Study. Research. It won’t be easy, this is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.”

Fenris’ eyes looked uncertain, but he nodded. 

“When will the need take you, again?”

“I’m not certain. Danarius rarely left it to build on its own. Less than a week, if I recall.”

Anders nodded. He looked at the elf sitting naked on the bed, his expression one of hopeless resignation. This was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen the warrior.

“I will continue doing... this... unless you tell me you wish to stop. I know I’m the last person you want in this situation with you. Please believe me, I do not find this amusing, and I will keep this between us. We’ll figure it out.” He sighed, then picked-up his staff. “Send for me, when you have need.”

He left. He needed to do some serious soul-searching, if he was to make peace within himself at the idea of this arrangement.


	2. Not Wanting What You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders tries to make the situation bearable for both of them.

There wasn’t peace to be found for the healer, in this situation. The best he managed was a compromise with himself. The need that took Fenris had to be slaked, or he would die. Anders was the only one who could do that. The elf was apparently willing for this to occur. Despite his ire that yet another mage had a magical hold over him, Fenris obviously wanted to live. 

Anders meant what he’d said. He’d try to find a resolution to the elf’s problem. In the meantime, he’d continue to do what needed to be done, for as long as necessary. His conscience was secondary, really. Justice hadn’t objected, and remained quiet. Apparently, he found this situation... just. And, whatever Anders felt, really didn’t matter; he didn’t expect to live with the guilt for long. As soon as he’d found a solution for this, his plans must proceed for mage freedom. 

The elf was at the clinic in five days. Shaking, perspiring, he nearly stumbled as he came through the door.

“How long have you been like this?” Anders asked.

“A day or so,” he rasped. He made his way to the nearest cot while Anders locked the door. He turned to find Fenris disrobing, momentarily unnerved by this unexpected event in his day. He finally nodded to himself, and began removing his robes. When he dropped his trousers, Fenris was suddenly kneeling in front of him, and taking him in his mouth. 

The elf was as determined as the first time, somehow coaxing Anders from flaccid to firm. When he was finally hard, and moaning with the elf’s ministrations, Fenris stood and bent over the cot behind him. 

“Please....” the elf panted. “I need.”

No matter how this had gone the first time, he would properly prepare Fenris for entry. With a quick cast of his lubricating spell in the elf, Anders stroked his fingers down his spine, and into the cleft of his buttocks. 

As his finger entered him, Fenris groaned. “This is not necessary--unngghhhhh!” He spasmed around Anders’ finger as his sweet spot was stroked. 

“Very necessary,” Anders said, feeling the elf’s body ripple and clench at his touch. “I will **not** hurt you.”

Fenris thrust and ground against the finger stroking into him. “It... doesn’t... hurt me....” he gasped. “This is good... it feels good.”

“It’s meant to,” Anders breathed. Indeed, Fenris’ body seemed to be loose, already. Part of the magic that caused the need, perhaps. “Let me do this for you.”

The elf didn’t argue, simply clutched the edges of the cot as he moaned, writhing in pleasure. Anders’ own pleasure was rising fast, much faster than his cock had. He watched the elf’s body, saw how it moved, the sinewy grace of it, the hard cock, dripping precome on the clinic floor. 

“Now!” Fenris cried, and Anders responded to his bidding. He removed his finger, lined up his cock and thrust, biting back a burgeoning shout at the unbelievable sensation. He stood, holding the elf’s hips, seated to his root, gasping for breath. How could it be so good? How could he not want to do this?

He began to move, his hips rolling. Incredible. 

“More.” Fenris’ voice was needy. That’s why he was here; he needed. Needed, with a capital N. Anders was here to give him what he needed. He gave more.

He pumped into the smooth, taut ass, and heard his voice raise in pleasure. Amazing. How could it feel so good? How?

He didn’t stop. He felt his body drawing tight, wanting to come, but somehow, somehow, he held back. He groaned, and drove into the elf before him. He reached around, gripped that hard, wet cock, and squeezed. The elf’s ass spasmed as Fenris cried out. He stroked the flesh in his fist, and heard Fenris begin to shout wordlessly.

His own pleasure increased, impossibly more, at the sound of the elf’s shout. He stroked harder, faster, and felt the shudder run over the elf’s body. When Fenris bellowed, his body pulsing around Anders’ cock, it was over. He came in hard, forceful waves, feeling himself fill the elf, feeling the elf spurt over his fingers. His legs didn’t want to hold him up, and he fell forward over the elf’s back.

Both men were quiet, but for the gasping breaths they drew. Anders floated in a strange bliss, timeless and misty. He was pulled from it by movements of the elf under him. Struggling to gain control of his limbs, he managed to push away from Fenris, and stagger to his desk chair, pulling up his pants. He sat heavily, feeling the shame, regardless of all his soul-searching.

He glanced at the elf, slowly pulling on his clothing.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Fenris looked up at him, confusion on his face. “Why?”

“I don’t like doing this to you.”

“You seemed to like it.”

He flinched. “I don’t **want** to like it.”

Those inscrutable eyes pinned him where he was a moment. “Neither do I,” the elf finally replied. 

“I haven’t been able to find anything in researching the magic; I need to know more about it. Would you let me try another diagnostic spell? With the Need slaked, maybe it won’t have the same reaction it did last time.”

Fenris shrugged, dropped his armor, and pushed himself up to sit on the cot. “As you wish.”

Anders approached, and watching the elf carefully, sent a very gentle current of magic into the elf’s body. 

There was no immediate response, so he closed his eyes, focused more energy behind it, and felt for the magic in the lyrium markings. He was shocked by what he felt. Layer, upon layer, upon layer of magic was attached to the lyrium in Fenris’ skin. Some of it he could identify, most of it he could not. Some felt decidedly dark, sinister, even filthy, as the elf so often said. Some was more benign. Others... he couldn’t begin to make sense of it. 

He ceased his search, pulled back his magic, and opened his eyes. Fenris was swaying gently where he sat, panting. He looked as though he was in some sort of bliss, or drunk.

“Fenris?” The elf didn’t respond, just rocked in place, eyes closed, mouth ajar, head tilted slightly back. Anders grabbed his arm and shook him. “Fenris!”

The elf opened his eyes, and Anders groaned. The diagnostic spell had apparently stimulated the magic in Fenris’ lyrium. The Need was upon him, again. So soon, and so deeply. “I’m sorry...” he whispered. “I didn’t think it would--”

His words were stopped by the elf’s mouth on his; lips sliding, tongue probing. His hips were wrapped in long legs and pulled forcefully against a sweating, heated body. Anders didn’t resist, he did what the elf needed. He put his arms about his quaking body, and kissed him in return.

He was pulled to lie on the cot, and felt the elf’s erection pressing into his belly. Fenris was undressing both of them, quickly, with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to removing another’s clothes. When he began to slide down Anders’ body to take him in his mouth, the mage stopped him.

“No... I haven’t cleaned myself after last time.”

“I don’t care,” was the husky-voiced reply.

“I do.” He cast his lubricating spell on himself. “Prepare me to receive you.”

Even in his lust addled state, Fenris looked confused. “You’d let me to take you?”

“It’s only fair.”

Fenris prepared him. He rolled Anders onto his back, and with talented fingers, he spread him open, and rubbed his prostate until he was again hard. Then, with a desperate thrust, Fenris’ rigid cock was inside of him. Anders did his best to lose himself in the sensations; the Need wouldn’t end unless both of them climaxed. This was a terrible, dark magic that Fenris carried in him; compelling him to want, and to ensure that his partner wanted, in return. He put it out of his mind, thinking of it wouldn’t help him go where he needed to, right now.

Fenris was thrusting madly, face buried in Anders’ throat, whimpers rising from him. With a small shift of his pelvis, the mage put his sweet spot in line of the elf’s cock, and felt pleasure flare through his entire being. 

“Yes,” he hissed, grabbing the elf’s ass in both hands and pulling him in as he thrust. Once again, he was overwhelmed in unexpected pleasure. For the second time in ten minutes, they were fucking like stoats, grinding, grunting, sweating. “Yes... yes... Maker, fuck me... harder... harder....”

He had a fever burning clear into his soul. So good... how had he thought he couldn’t do this, again? He was in a torment of pleasure too great to resist. 

His body gyrated out of his control, and he was coming. Coming hard, coming for an eternity, coming until he felt himself emptied and breathless.

Fenris collapsed upon him, his seed now hot within Anders. He felt his legs, wrapped about the elf’s thighs, his hands still cupping the globes of his ass. They lay, catching their breath, again. Soon, the elf shifted, disengaged from his body, and got off of the cot. He, once again, began to dress himself.

“Fenris....”

“What?” He sounded dull, tired. 

“Did this spell affect Danarius, as well?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“You believe it is affecting you?”

“Um... maybe. When I... join with you... when one of us enters the other... everything is suddenly more intense. I mean, more than it normally would be.”

“This is not just your own pleasure?”

“I don’t think so. I’ve had some good sex in my time, but this....”

“Like a fever in both your body and soul?”

“Exactly.”

“So intense that it nearly hurts?”

“Yes.”

The elf turned to him with a furrowed brow. “That’s what it does to me.”

“How...?” Anders shook his head. He sighed. He began searching for his clothing.

“Did you learn anything when you searched the magic?”

“There’s a lot of magic in those markings. A lot of it I can’t begin to make heads or tails of.”

Fenris pulled a face. “Danarius did many things to the markings, cast many spells on them.”

“That much is clear. Did he tell you what any of them were?”

With a bitter snort, Fenris shook his head. “Hardly. I only know a few, because of their effect on me... like, this one.”

“Right. Tell me how this one usually worked, with him.” 

“He would cast a spell, and I would be overcome with need. He would instruct me to pleasure him. Then, he would cast another spell, to lock down the magic.”

“Fenris, I’m so damned sorry. I had no idea you lived like that.”

With a scowl, the elf shrugged. “That was hardly the worst of my slavery, mage.”

“Maker, there was worse than that?”

“You still don’t get it, do you? You have no idea. Venhedis, I cannot believe I am once again at the mercy of a mage.”

“It’s not like I want to do this, Fenris. Can you see that? You asked me to do this. I’m doing it.”

“Yet, somehow, it’s little consolation when I hear myself beg for your use.”

Anders sighed. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.”

“As am I.”

“Look. This is your affliction, so I won’t do anything without your approval. I’ll ask Xenon, at the Black Emporium if he knows anyone who deals in rare magical tomes. But, only if you want me to.”

Fenris actually looked hopeful. “Why wouldn’t I want you to?”

“This is dark magic. Probably blood magic. If there’s a cure--and I can’t be sure I can find one--it would likely be in the same vein. No pun intended. Are you prepared for that?”

He could see the cogs turning in the elf’s head. “There’s no other option.”

“Well... you could go to the Circle. Explain the situation. Let them try to....”

“No. I will not go to the site of so many blood mages and unrest. I am vulnerable when the Need takes me. I would do anything for it to be slaked. I would be at anyone’s mercy. You, at least....” He didn’t finish, but Anders guessed what he was getting at. As little as Fenris trusted him, he was familiar.

“You’re right. I’m not sure another mage could satisfy the Need, anyway, now that I’m keyed into the magic. I’ll head to the Emporium, first thing in the morning.” Fenris nodded, and turned to leave.

“Fenris....” 

The elf paused, and turned back.

“You’re not at my mercy. I would never harm you, in this.”

With a shrug, the warrior headed out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't it suck when your plans to blow up a major religious establishment in an effort to stop atrocities is interrupted by being bound in a magical lust affliction requiring that you regularly rut with the gorgeous man you can't stand? 
> 
> Only in fan-fucking-fiction. ;-)


	3. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders continue to deal with the magic’s effects, while they also deal with their differences.

Xenon knew three book dealers who might carry tomes with the sort of magic with which they were dealing. Anders sent letters to each one, describing what he’d seen of the magic, and his hope for a book with such content. Now, to wait.

The Need came upon Fenris every four or five days. Anders wasn’t sure why it patterned in this way. So much about the magic was unknown. But, according to the elf, it always had, unless it was contained by Danarius. In the years since he’d escaped the magister, it had remained contained. Now, unleashed, its effect cycled. If Fenris let it build, the pain would overtake him surprisingly quickly. Getting to know the pattern, Anders anticipated the elf’s appearance in his clinic. If Fenris didn’t show up in four days, Anders made his way to the mansion on the fifth. 

He always required coaxing for his body to be ready for his part. He didn’t want Fenris, any more than the elf wanted him. He definitely didn’t want to participate in such a dubious act, with both their consent based solely on preventing the pain that would overcome the elf. It was hardly arousing to think about it. 

Yet, each time they coupled, Anders felt the surprising desire overtake him. Once they joined, regardless of who took whom, his entire body and soul was suffused with pleasure. It confused him, partly because of Justice’s surprising lack of opinion on the matter.

Several years ago, Anders had desired Hawke. For years, he’d wanted the man, ached for him, fantasized about him, masturbated to his image. Justice had not approved of his obsession with the warrior. They couldn’t speak, per se, but Anders could sense the spirit’s feelings, and get a vague understanding of his thoughts. And, Justice clearly didn’t care for Anders’ desire for Hawke.

Yet, he was utterly silent regarding this situation. After their first time, Anders had been sure Justice would call a halt to a repeat. In fact, he’d wondered why the spirit had allowed the first. Even now, thrusting into the elf’s writhing body, Justice was quiet.

This was their seventh coupling, and the elf was becoming as familiar to him as any lover; physically, at least. The moment they touched, it was all about the physical, the Need that must be slaked. Their only spoken words were exclamations of passion, or instruction. There was nothing personal in what they did. 

“Harder... faster....” Fenris gasped, striving under him, limbs wrapped about him. Anders thrust harder and faster. He never denied what the elf requested. The pleasure he felt was secondary, to meet his part of the magic’s requirement. Secondary, yet exquisite.

“Touch me,” the elf demanded. Reaching between their undulating bodies, Anders grasped his cock, and stroked. Fenris shouted at the double pleasure from inside and out. His channel squeezed around him, made Anders choke on his own breath. Maker save him, the pleasure of slaking the Need was beyond any he’d ever known. 

When Fenris came, it was hard and long. Anders was drawn abruptly into climax by the elf’s body snapping around his cock, his groan of completion bitten back as much as he could. He hated that his reaction broadcast itself so clearly. Why did his body have to take such obvious joy in it?

They collapsed against one another, as always. Their brief moments of afterglow, the lassitude of completion, were something neither could avoid. Their bodies and minds were simply flattened by the intensity of the experience. As soon as he returned to his own mind, however, Anders carefully pulled away, and found his clothing. He dressed with still-shaking hands, sitting on a bench before the hearth to put on his boots. Fenris still had no qualms with nudity, not since the first day, but Anders didn’t delude himself that lounging around the elf’s bedroom, naked, was a welcome intrusion. He always dressed, and left, as quickly as possible. 

He glanced at him, sitting up in his bed, leaning against the headboard, watching the mage as he tied his boot’s wrap. 

“Have you heard from any of the book dealers?” His voice startled him in the quiet room.

“No. The moment I do, I’ll tell you. You can read the letters yourself, if you like. It’s your affliction. This is your party.”

“I’m not a strong reader. I’ll leave that to you.”

“Fine. Trust me, I’ll not keep anything from you regarding this.”

The elf’s face took on the expression he’d come to know meant he had something to say, but was considering how to say it. He waited.

“You... have been decent about this arrangement.”

“What did you expect?”

“This affliction, as you call it, was designed to put me in a position of which a mage could take advantage. You haven’t done that.”

“Yet, I enjoy it, as you once pointed out,” he said bitterly.

“You have to enjoy it, to provide your part in disrupting the magic. Yet, you have never begun this in a state of arousal. I always need to bring you there.”

“I’m sorry to make you do that. It’s not intentional.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. The fact that you don’t anticipate this with excitement tells me that you are not taking advantage of the situation. You could incite the magic’s compulsion at any time, anywhere, just by casting your magic on me; yet, you don’t.”

“That would be unthinkable! I would never....”

“Exactly. I appreciate both your discretion, and your consideration.”

Anders hadn’t quite expected that. “Um... thank you. I wish this wasn’t happening to you, at all. To anyone. This is some of the dirtiest magic I’ve ever seen or heard of.”

“Yes, and yet even this is not the worst I’ve ever seen.”

Part of Anders wanted to know what could be worse, and part of him absolutely didn’t want to know. Part of him wanted there to be something innocent in his mind. He sighed. He was probably well past that, truthfully.

He heard the smirk in the elf’s voice. “Hard to hear how terrible your ilk can truly be?”

“My ilk? Anyone’s ilk can be terrible. It’s not confined to mages. You just said you appreciate my behavior, yet, now you group me with the mage who did this to you? Do you even hear yourself speak?”

Fenris looked surprised, then scowled. Anders didn’t imagine this conversation getting anything other than worse. This was his signal to leave. He stood, and pulled on his outer robes.

“I’ll see you next time.”

“Thank you.”

He did a double-take. Fenris said thank you? He left quickly, mind buzzing.

The first reply to his letters arrived several days later. Anders didn’t open it, just hightailed it to Fenris’ mansion, and handed it to the elf. Fenris gazed at the envelope longer than Anders had expected; then, he realized the elf was sounding out the words in his head. When he handed it back, Anders opened it, and read aloud.

This book dealer didn’t have any tomes referencing such magic in his possession. He was sending-out feelers to fellow collectors.

“Sorry,” he said. Fenris looked strangely unaffected.

“I don’t expect a solution to be found. Do not feel regret. That you’re trying means a great deal.”

“Why couldn’t a solution be found? Danarius had to learn it from somewhere. That somewhere is still out there.”

“Perhaps not. He was, despite his arrogance and cruelty, brilliantly gifted. He could have invented the magic.”

Anders frowned. Possible. But, not overly probable. This magic was complicated. He doubted the bastard would risk an untried form of magic on his prized creation. “If we don’t get results this way, I can always try to dismantle it, myself. It would take a lot of time, and a lot of diagnostics, before I could even consider it. You know what that amount of my magic poured into you will do.”

“Yes. I do. I don’t like when the Need is incited by your magic. It’s too similar to what Danarius did, and feels disagreeably intense. Even so, if we have no other options, I would be willing to suffer it.”

“You’re sure?”

“It must be dealt with. If something happens to you, I will die. Painfully.”

“I’m trying not to think about that.”

“I’d be surprised if you did.”

“You think I’m too stupid to appreciate what’s at stake?” He was irritated.

“I know you’re not stupid. You are naive, however.”

“I’m naive? You’re kidding me, right? I’ve spent most of my adult life as an apostate or a Grey Warden. I hardly think I qualify as naive.”

“You have no comprehension of the horror of slavery. You have no awareness of the cruelty of ungoverned mages. You trusted a demon, and let it into your soul. Yes. You are naive.”

“You are just unbelievable, sometimes. Justice is--” 

“Don’t start, mage. I’m in no mood.”

Suddenly, his argument died on his lips. He’d had good arguments lined-up, too, clever, witty words. 

He glared at the elf, and saw the surprise in the green eyes when he didn’t reply. He turned on his heel and marched out of the mansion. 

Despite their personal feelings, they managed to keep the situation under control. That is, until they went into battle together. In retrospect, they should never have gone on the same mission. It was against a group of slavers in a cavern on the Wounded Coast. Hawke, Varric, Fenris and Anders had met the battle well enough, though one look at the elf at the end, and Anders knew the magic he’d cast during the fight had incited the Need. Badly. The elf was visibly shaking, groaning with pain. He knew better than to approach him with others present.

“Hawke,” he said in an undertone. “I’m going to need privacy to treat him. Leave our gear here, and you two guard the entrance.” He glanced again at the elf, now bent over, groaning, shuddering, with his arms wrapped around himself. “This could take a while.”

Hawke didn’t ask questions. He knew Anders had been working on a solution to Fenris’ problem but not what that solution had entailed. Hawke looked at the elf’s distress, nodded and signaled Varric. As soon as they were gone, Anders began stripping himself. Fenris wouldn’t have much restraint once they made contact, not as bad-off as he was, now. He’d like to have intact clothing to wear back into the city.

“Fenris... Fenris.” He looked up at him, confused, face drawn in pain. “Take off your armor.” Those pauldrons could put an eye out, never mind the gauntlets. The elf seemed dazed, and only staggered randomly in a circle, ignoring his calls. Anders picked up a small rock and chucked it at him to get his attention again. “Fenris! Take off your armor!”

He seemed to have gotten through. With a weak nod, the elf began to unsteadily shuck his spikes and plates. Laying out his bedroll, Anders watched Fenris stumble through the process. Not only did he hear moans of pain, he heard whispers and pleading; and realized how truly bad-off he was. 

As soon as the last piece of armor dropped, Anders pulled him into his embrace, and saw the pain transform into pleasure. He took the confused elf’s mouth with his, and began to give him what he needed. Fenris’ lips parted under his with no encouragement, as Anders’ tongue delved into his mouth. He could feel the elf’s erection rising against his thigh. Fenris moaned continually into his mouth, hips rutting against him, hands clutching. 

“What do you want... to take or be taken?” 

Fenris was lost in his mind. Although in pain, confusion and fear seemed to have the greatest grasp on the elf. He whimpered when Anders’ eyes met his for too long. He muttered and shook his head. The mage realized he was going to have to direct this. He managed to get the tight leggings and tunic off, lay him down, and begin preparing him. The elf cried out as Anders stroked his sweet spot, clinging to him in desperation. He could hear Fenris whispering, still delusional. 

“Please... Master, please... touch me... use me... make it stop... please, Master....” 

Anders froze. “I’m not your master, Fenris. Look at me! You have no master. I’m Anders... just Anders. I’ll make it stop. I’ll help you.” 

This fucking magic. Look what it did to this proud man. It returned him to his slavery. This was so wrong. So unfair. Such an injustice. 

He had to work to bring himself to fullness, even as he prepared the elf. This was worse than when Fenris was simply in need. He wasn’t even in his right mind. Every fiber of Anders’ being fought against taking a person in this condition. Yet, the elf’s life depended on it.

Fenris was writhing, hips thrusting against the fingers within him, completely taken by the Need. As Anders finally managed to get his half-hard cock into Fenris’ body, his previous reticence was overwhelmed by desire. He wanted the elf, needed to be part of him. His shaft was fully-fledged, now. He looked at the man below him. Tears flowed from Fenris’ eyes, fear and desperation filling the great, green orbs. “It’s alright... I’ve got you,” Anders whispered.

He began moving. The elf cried-out, his face filling with need, with lust, with pleasure. Anders thrust, watching as the fear and the confusion began to fade. Yes... that was better. 

“Are you with me?” he asked.

“Yes....” The elf’s deep, smooth voice was cracked and breathless, as he spoke. “I’m glad it’s you....” His voice broke into more cries of pleasure as their thrusting continued. 

Anders could barely speak, and didn’t know how the elf had managed it. “What do you need...?”

“Harder....”

Anders increased his force. He pounded the elf slowly, both their bodies shaking with each thrust. “Good?”

“Yesssss.”

“What else?” He murmured.

“Kiss....”

He took the elf’s mouth with his, and kissed him. Kissed him long, deep, and sweet. Soon, Fenris broke the kiss as his cries grew.

“Faster....”

Loins cramping with his own need, he moved faster.

Maker’s breath... the elf was beautiful, and Anders had never noticed. Had never seen the tragic pain within him. 

Fenris cried out louder. Anders tucked his cheek against the elf’s, sliding his fingers into the sweated hair. His own voice began to raise with the intensity of the pleasure created between them. Fenris was howling with abandon, hands fisted into Anders’ mop of golden locks. 

He looked into the elf’s face, and saw Fenris’ orgasm as it took him, saw it in his eyes, heard it in his voice, felt it in his body. He continued striving above the elf, his own need not yet slaked. 

As he thrust, he felt Fenris again begin to writhe against him, heard his cries of pleasure. He looked at him with surprise. The elf’s cock was still hard, his seed glistening between their bodies from his spending, yet he was not finished.

“Fenris?”

“More. More.” he gasped. “I need more.”

He sat back on his heels, pulled the elf’s hips up on his thighs, and continued thrusting into him.

“Don’t stop... don’t... stop....”

“I won’t... not until you’re done.”

He drew on his strength, that famous Warden stamina, and gave the elf all he needed. By the time Fenris began to climb toward his second climax, Anders was nearly in a state of euphoria. His body was tense, balls pulled tight, cock painfully hard, a whine emanating from him as he remained on the edge of orgasm. When Fenris, literally, screamed into his final completion, Anders unleashed himself. 

Silent... forceful... agonizing.... He filled the elf’s body for an eternity. 

They drifted. Arms around each other, holding tightly; they floated. 

When his mind began to form thoughts, his first was unexpected.

Fenris smelled nice.

After more than two months of intimate contact, he only now noticed how the elf smelled? Well, he suppose he had also only just noticed that the elf was attractive, as well, and he’d been looking at his snarling visage for a half-dozen years.

He felt Fenris gently sliding his fingers through his hair as they lay together. He lifted his head to look at the elf. Inscrutable green eyes met his. 

He cleared his throat, and gently disengaged from the elf. “We’d better get going,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Fenris nodded. “We should move on,” he rasped, voice rough from shouting in pleasure.

How either of them managed to dress and walk along the tunnels and passageways to the cave entrance was beyond him. His legs wobbled under him. He noticed Fenris stagger once or twice on the uneven cavern floor.

By the time they made it back to Kirkwall, Anders was really feeling the fatigue. He nodded to Hawke and Varric as they headed to the Hanged Man. As he moved toward the stairs leading down to Darktown, he stumbled. A gauntleted hand caught him. 

“My mansion is closer. Perhaps you should stay the night there.”

He looked at Fenris with surprise. “You sure?”

“There are many rooms. This fatigue is from your efforts in slaking the Need. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you. Maker, yes, I don’t think I can make it to the clinic.”

He barely made it to the mansion. Once Fenris opened the door, he staggered to the nearest room, and collapsed on the dusty bed. He was asleep in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ilk' is an awesome word. 
> 
> The worse the Need, the more slaking required.
> 
> Weird stuff, this magic does.


	4. Common Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris agree on a thing or two. 
> 
> They try a new angle on exploring the magic gripping Fenris.

When he woke, it was dark outside the shuttered window. He wandered into the hallway, stretching and yawning. A light shone from the open door of the elf’s room.

He found Fenris at the table, glaring at a book in front of him.

“Thank you for the bed.”

Fenris looked up. “You’re welcome.”

“What are you reading?”

“Shartan. I’m not reading it so much as staring it into submission.”

“I noticed. Need help with it?”

“No. Thank you. Hawke works with me, sometimes.”

“He’s a generous guy.”

“Yes.” Fenris stared at him, where he leaned in the doorway. “You are... also... generous.”

Anders snorted. “Thanks, I guess.”

“I mean it as a compliment. Despite my delirium, I remember what happened, today. You had to work hard to ready us both. The Need was great enough I required two climaxes to relieve it. You exhausted yourself on my account. That’s generous.”

“The Need had you. What else could I do?”

“Tell me, what does your demon think of this?”

Anders was taken aback. “Uhmmm... he’s oddly quiet about it.”

“It doesn’t say?”

“We can’t really talk to each other. I can feel his strong emotions. He doesn’t seem to have any about this.”

Fenris grunted. “Today, the Need was very intense. Your healing magic, and battle spells... it was too much for me. I think we should not fight together, anymore.”

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

Anders’ legs began to shake with standing, and he made for the benches in front of the hearth. Fenris followed.

Anders continued. “I’ve been thinking about the magic Danarius used, trying to understand what I can. Mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Go ahead.”

“Tell me, again, what would happen. I don’t mean the sex. I mean, when he used the magic, what would he do, what did he say, did he hold anything--a staff, or object, did he use potions?”

Fenris’ brow furrowed as he thought back in time. “I remember no objects. He didn’t use a staff for this. He didn’t give me potions, and I never saw him take one. He would activate the magic. I’m not sure how, he didn’t speak to do it. I would feel the Need take me. He... did not always use me. Often, he merely watched my reaction, watched as the pain grew. Sometimes watching wasn’t enough; he would ask me to describe, in detail, what I felt. ‘Are you frightened, little wolf? How badly do you need, my pet? Does anger burn as your need grows?’”

Anders felt anger burning within himself, hearing this. Had Danarius’ cruelty known no bounds? Fenris was so calm, describing the torture to which he’d been subjected.

“Sometimes, he would stop the magic, and that would be all. Other times, he would instruct me to pleasure him. When that happened, he might climax, and then ask me to describe what I felt as the Need again grew. Or, he might allow me to climax as well, and ask those same questions. He always ended the magic. He didn’t leave the Need to grow unchecked for long.”

“Where would he usually do this?”

“Typically, in his bedchamber, or his study. Sometimes in public.”

“Maker’s breath! Why in public?”

“To demonstrate his control. Or, amuse his friends. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Did he tell them anything about the magic he used?”

“Danarius seldom gave away his secrets. He said nothing more than ‘let’s show our guests my hungry wolf’ or ‘my pet, show them the desire demon you are’. It was all about flaunting how I would beg and grovel for use.”

“Please, tell me he didn’t let them....”

“Use me? No. Danarius wasn’t a man who shared his toys.”

“Fenris....” He dropped his face into his hands. He didn’t know how to deal what he’d just learned. The magic was bad enough, but, to know that it had been used to humiliate the elf was nearly unbearable.

Anders had never had to experience such humiliation, such agonies, as Fenris had. All of his time in Kinloch Hold, such sadism had never occurred. Even his time killing darkspawn with the Wardens hadn’t revealed such depravity. 

“Mage?”

“I’m sorry I ever compared your life to mine.” 

Fenris stared at him a moment, before replying. “Thank you.”

“I can’t stand knowing this. I can’t stand that I’m his successor.”

Fenris frowned, and looked at his hands a moment. “I am aware that I groveled, and called you my master, while in the Need, today.”

“You were delirious.”

“Yes, I know. I’m also aware that you corrected me, and reassured me. I meant what I said today. I am glad that it’s you who meets this need. You have been considerate and devoted in attending to this affliction, even though it distresses you. I didn’t expect this. I’m more grateful than you can know.”

“It’s the least I can do. Maker, how could I not do that much?”

“Easily. Many would enjoy such power. That’s how I know that you are not Danarius’ successor. You could never be him.”

The second letter arrived shortly thereafter. Again, no knowledge of such magic. Again, the book collector would continue his search.

After reading it aloud to the elf, Anders swore, and paced in front of the fire.

“You, yourself, said the odds weren’t good of finding a solution,” Fenris said.

“I know. I was hoping to be proven wrong.” He’d crushed the letter in his fist. He held the paper to his chest and flattened it out, again.

“Do you grow weary of tending to my problem?”

“What? No. That’s not it. I’m just... Fenris, I won’t live forever. I’m just concerned that I won’t find a solution in time.”

“In time for what?”

Anders frowned. In the past year, he’d come to realize that drastic measures needed to be taken, and soon, in order to spur any significant changes in the Circles. He and Justice were putting in place a course of action, extreme though it was. If all went as planned, his life, either literally, or as he knew it, would end. So would many other lives; sacrifices to the greater good.

Yet, what of Fenris? Was it right to abandon a man who’d come to rely on him for assistance? He would die without Anders. Equally important, was it right to put one man ahead of all mages? Some of those in the Circles, certainly in the Gallows, were undergoing horrors equal to that which Fenris had known. 

But, why did he now feel pangs of regret and doubt? He’d been firm in his conviction, before. Justice had been firm. Now, the spirit did nothing to assure him. This plan was to be his greatest achievement, and he was getting cold feet. 

“For whatever is to come,” he finally answered. “I will help you as long as I am able, for as long as you wish.”

The elf’s eyes bored into him. “Take care the paths you choose, mage. Don’t travel the roads so often taken by the mages in this city.”

He thought much on his plans in the days to come. Justice had been uncommonly quiet since they had begun treating the elf’s needs. He tried to remember the last time he’d written in his manifesto. Tried to remember the last time he’d felt Justice pushing at him to work toward freedom for mages. He tried ‘poking’ at the spirit with his thoughts. He was there, simply... content. Yes. He was content. 

Which was not right, for the spirit. Justice and Anders, as a unified being, had sought vengeance with single-minded intensity, since joining. Often, regardless of the repercussions. Now, that intensity was gone. The spirit just sat in Anders’ wretched soul, and was calm. Was there something about slaking the elf’s need that made Justice content? 

The third book collector’s letter was a let-down, as well. 

Fenris shrugged. “I doubted it could be found. We’re back to where we’ve been, all along. You will have to do more study of the magic imbedded in the lyrium.”

“Alright. But, you know that will set off the Need in a bad way.”

“Do it when I’m already in the Need. When you do your lubrication spell, it doesn’t seem to effect it. Perhaps the diagnostic spell won’t, either.”

“The lube spell calls for a trivial amount of power. Remember the first time I tried a diagnostic? I couldn’t even finish; it really set you off. Actually delving into the source of the magic... I don’t know how that will effect you, if you’re already in the magic’s grip.”

“The first time, you were made a participant. Perhaps that’s what set the need off, so badly. I’m willing to risk it. If you are.”

“This is your party, Fenris.”

“Next time. We’ll try it next time.”

Next time, Fenris sat, trembling on his bed, as Anders began his diagnostic spell. They were both naked, no use putting clothing in the way that might be damaged if the Need was augmented. The elf had told him not to stop until he was either screaming, or they began slaking the Need. He did his best to ignore Fenris’ condition, and focused on the magics clogging-up the lyrium markings. 

It was easy to find. The magic was active, right now, so its signature shone, diagnostically speaking. Summoning all of his fortitude, he delved into the magic, and tried to identify it. It was completely foreign to him. It seemed to be firmly imbedded in the lyrium, as though a part of it. There were other... things... attached to it. Not spells, exactly. They had--

He was thrown to the floor, pinned under the elf, and cried out as Fenris thrust into his unprepared body.

“Fenris... stop... it hurts....” The elf was deep in need, and unaware of himself. He continued to thrust madly, painfully, into him. Anders managed to cast his lube spell, and felt a small measure of relief. He was about to cast a static cage on the elf, when Fenris suddenly climaxed, groaning. He collapsed on him, gasping for breath. 

“Fenris, get off, get off, it hurts, Maker it hurts....”

In possession of his mind, again, the elf immediately, and carefully, pulled out of him. “Venhedis, you’re bleeding. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize....” his face was filled with remorse. 

Anders shook his head. “It’s not your fault. You were controlled by the Need. You better leave the room so I can heal myself.” His ass was on fire.

Fenris nearly sprinted from the room. The relief was immediate. He got off the floor, and called Fenris back in. They needed to complete the act; Anders still needed to climax. He watched as the elf staggered back in, his body still shaking, erection still full. Apparently, like in the caverns, Fenris required more release. At least he was thinking clearly. He was also spooked, standing at a distance, his self-control phenomenal. 

Anders extended his arms, beckoning him. Unable to refuse the invitation to touch, in his state, Fenris lurched into his embrace, hands grasping. 

“I’m sorry. I would never.... I am very sorry.”

“Shhhhh,” he whispered, pulling the elf down on the bed. “I understand. My magic augmented the Need. We’ll prepare better, next time.”

“I still need... please, don’t make me suffer... it was an accident....”

“Fenris... it’s alright... I would never make you suffer. Let’s just slake the Need.” 

Fenris kissed him with desire and with remorse. Anders ran his hands down the trembling body, let his tongue make lazy explorations into the elf’s mouth, breathed in the scent of the man in his arms.

“I should be punished,” the elf moaned.

“Like hell, you should be! It wasn’t your fault. The Need took your senses. Hush, now....”

Fenris nodded, his body overriding his emotional concerns. He slid down the mage, and took his flaccid flesh in his mouth. Anders tried to let the pleasure take him, but his mind was occupied. What was all this fear and groveling about? In the caverns, and now here. He’d thought the Need was pain and pleasure combined in one terrible curse. And, Fenris reported Danarius asking about fear, when he quizzed the elf. There was more going on. Fenris certainly didn’t act like this in his right mind.

“Am I doing something wrong?” came Fenris’ nervous voice. Anders’ distracted thoughts weren’t helping him rise to the occasion, and it was upsetting the elf. 

“No, you’re doing fine. I just need a little more.” He shut down his mind and let his body feel the elf’s efforts. Soon enough, he was ready. When he lifted his hand to cast the lube spell, Fenris stopped him. 

“What is it?” he panted. 

“You don’t need to prepare me. You should take me, as I took you.”

Anders shook his head, and cast his lube spell on the elf. He slowly, carefully, slid inside Fenris’ body. Both groaned. The elf was shuddering, moaning, wrapping his legs about him. 

“I will not abuse you, Fenris,” he whispered. 

Whines broke from the elf as he undulated beneath him. Anders kissed him, stroked his sweated hair from his face. He moved, thrusting in time to the elf’s movements. Ahhh... the bliss was filling him. So much pleasure. So good. He gathered Fenris in his arms, and held him close as they moved together.

Fenris gazed at him, face awash with want. He spoke softly “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Anders shook his head. “Just feel, Fenris. Just feel the pleasure,” he breathed into the pointed ear. “Slake your need.”

Fenris began his climb, taking Anders with him. 

“Good... there you go... come on....” Anders felt an aching tenderness in his heart for this elf. He rode him gently, kissing him, cradling him. Fenris tossed his head, moving toward his peak. Anders took the elf’s leaking cock in hand, and stroked. 

“Uhhnnnngggghhhhhhh!” Fenris spent himself, his orgasm pulling Anders to his peak. With harsh gasps, he filled the elf. The Need was slaked.

They lay together a long while after they regained their breath. Side-by-side, just touching shoulders. 

“I’m ashamed of what I did.”

“Don’t be. Magic is powerful. This magic, especially. And, I exacerbated it with my own.”

“How can you insist magic isn’t dangerous, seeing, feeling, what it did?” Well, the Fenris he knew was back.

“It’s not the magic, Fenris. It’s the user. Not all mages use their magic this way. I don’t, not even with Justice in me. Most mages don’t.”

Fenris was quiet. Mulling. Anders let him.

“You cannot do your diagnostics, again.” Anders hid a grin. Fenris hadn’t argued with his point about mages. 

“Yes, I can. I’ll just prepare my body, first. That way, if you jump me, we’re good to go.”

“How can you be so blase about it? I don’t want to hurt you, again.”

“We could always restrain you.”

“We could.”

“Fenris, I was being a facetious. I’m not going to tie you up.”

“You won’t truly be restraining me, with simple ropes. I can phase through it, if I want.”

“Then, what’s the use?”

“It won’t occur to me. I don’t possess critical thinking when the Need is strong. Before, and after, I can free myself. But, while I’m at risk, I’m secured..”

“Hmm. I thought about a static cage....”

“Do you know what that kind of sustained magic, from you, would do to me?”

“I thought of that, too. Which is why we’ll try the rope. If you’re really ok with it?”

“Yes.”

Anders looked at the elf beside him. The level of trust this took, knowing he’d be unable to escape while in need, was significant. Fenris turned his head to look at him. How well he’d come to know this elf in the past few months. On this level, at least. 

“You lost your memories when you received the markings, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“Do you know anything about your past?”

“Only what Varania told me the day she betrayed me. I had a mother and a sister, and fought for the honor of receiving these markings. I used the boon I was awarded to free them.”

“Wow. That’s... that’s really something.”

“Is it?”

“You must have loved them, very much.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps. If I did, Varania, at least, did not return that affection.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s sad. I know that my parents loved me as a child. I don’t know about my father, but I have no doubt that my mother still does.”

“Why doubt your father?”

“He said I was cursed, and that I was punishment for his sins. I was punishment. I never got over that. I never will.”

“I don’t believe magic is a punishment. It is a bred feature, like hair color, or great strength.”

“You don’t believe it’s granted by the Maker?”

“No. Anyone can breed qualities, be it in animals or people. The Tevinter Imperium has been selectively breeding for magical ability for thousands of years.”

“The Maker still ultimately creates each person. The Chant says He composed the cadence of our hearts; and that He has gifted His children with magic.”

“Hm. I’m not learned in the Chant. But, I definitely wouldn’t call magic a gift. It’s a very powerful, unstable, poorly controlled weapon. Like all power, it corrupts those who possess it.”

“I’m not corrupt. Lots of mages aren’t corrupt. You just had a lot of very bad mages in your past.”

“I did, I’ll not deny it. But, magic does corrupt, Anders. You choose not to see it.”

“It doesn’t corrupt. You choose not to see that.”

“How is your demon doing?”

“He’s not a demon, and you’re impossible.”

“I am not impossible. I am realistic. I lived in a country run by free mages, each one as bad as the next. Their powers are unchecked. You have been treating the result of such freedom, for months. Look at me the next time I’m in the agony of need, and tell me I don’t have reason to distrust mages.”

“You do have reason, I’m not saying you don’t. But, at the same time, not all mages are bad.”

“It doesn’t take all mages to do bad things. Just one. Like Danarius. Or, another, like Quentin. How about that blood mage in the Alienage, who killed his wife? Or....”

“Enough. I know what you’re saying. Not all mages are good, I’m not arguing that. Not all people are good. But, not all mages are bad, either.”

Fenris was looking hard at him, though not with his usual this-close-to-killing-you glare.

“You are misguided, and you’re an abomination, both of which make you dangerous. But, you are not bad. Everything you have done regarding my affliction shows it to be true. You are using your magic to help me, rather than take advantage of the situation. I have never seen you use your magic for corrupt purposes. In fact, you use it to help those in need, in your clinic.” 

Chewing his lip thoughtfully, the elf nodded to himself. “You, and Bethany Hawke, are the only mages I’ve ever met whom I would call good.”

This was not where Anders had imagined this discussion going. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

If only Fenris really knew, Anders thought.


	5. Alterations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders and Fenris both experience changes. But, are they for the better? 
> 
> Anders gets a first real look at the magic within the elf.

That night, Anders spent long hours in the quiet of the clinic, mind occupied with consideration and deliberation. At the end of it all, he lay on his cot, and sobbed. He wept for two reasons; for what he wasn’t doing, and for what he’d almost done.

He was failing the mages he’d sworn to free. He realized that he couldn’t go through with his plans. He couldn’t build a bomb, and destroy the Chantry, and kill innocent people, to bring justice to the oppressed mages. He knew that it wasn’t justice, to trade one injustice for another. 

If he destroyed the Chantry, he would not be viewed as a martyr. He’d be viewed as a monster who had killed untold innocents, in the name of all other mages. He would be that one bad mage of which Fenris had spoken. Maker help him. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. 

Fenris called him good. Was he good, that he’d even considered this to be a viable option? He was a healer, not a terrorist. Neither he, nor Justice, would have ever considered such an act, prior to joining together. Only as Vengeance had it seemed reasonable. Now, with Justice unaccountably quiet, Anders’ mind was clear, and he understood this. 

How close he had come. How close.

He sobbed until his tears ran dry, and he lapsed into fitful sleep. 

He awoke with determination. He would not exemplify all that the populace saw as dangerous and frightening in mages. Right now, until he found a better plan for helping mages, he would focus on helping those in need. He would do this through the clinic; and, through helping Fenris with his affliction. He would find another way to bring the mage plight to light. 

Although helping Fenris with his affliction certainly sounded noble, the acts it required weren’t always so profound. Days later, Anders found himself in the elf’s loo, his fingers up his own arse, preparing himself for penetration. If Fenris did manage to escape his bindings, and overwhelm him, again, he could at least prevent some of the pain. 

“You’re sure you still want me to do this?” he asked the elf. Fenris lay naked on his bed, trembling with need, arms stretched toward the bed posts.

“Yes,” he rasped. “I’ve already tied the knots. Just slip them on my wrists... pull them tight.”

That done, Anders stood beside the bed, also nude. “Here goes. Alert me when the Need gets too strong. I’ll stop the diagnostic, and we’ll slake it.” 

Tendrils of magic left his hands and traveled into the elf’s lyrium. He found the magic, quickly, and began exploring it. 

It was so strange. It had the feel of blood magic, yet, not completely. It had an echo of Spirit magic, yet, different. It seemed to be related to Force magic, but unlike any he’d seen. It also held strange energies, not as part of its own make-up, but as though it was caging them. Those gave off signatures of... power? Or, emotion? Some emitted strongly, and were easy to identify; Pain... rage... need... desperation... lust. There were others, that were more securely controlled. He couldn’t sense them.

At that moment, the energy that radiated pain flashed blindingly. 

A full-throated, anguished scream yanked him from his exploration. Fenris was bowed completely off of the bed with pain, muscle and sinew pulled so tight Anders feared he would injure himself. He reached out, and simply laid a hand on the sweating, heaving chest. The elf fell back to the bed, and his eyes opened on Anders... he was well beyond reasoning. His arms yanked against the ropes holding him as he surged toward the mage with a snarl. 

Without a second thought, Anders straddled the elf, and impaled himself on his impossibly swollen cock. Fenris wailed, wildly thrusting into the body above him. Anders did his best to ride him as he was thrown about by the elf’s undulating body. It was terrifying, seeing the elf so undone. Yet, his own body reacted just as wildly; the magic pouring need into him.

Abruptly, Fenris howled his completion. Again, his mind seemed to return to him with his climax, although the Need was clearly not done. He phased through the bindings, wrapped his arms about the mage, and flipped them over. 

Cock still rigid, he thrust madly into the man under him. Fenris bit down on his neck, teeth breaking the skin. The mage felt it not as pain, but as intense, burning, pleasure. He cried out, thrusting against the driving cock, limbs locked about the body above him.

So... fucking... good.

Fenris was tonguing the wound on his neck--lapping the blood--and, it was the most wildly primal sensation he’d ever experienced. 

“Fuck me... fuck me, Fenris... sweet, fucking Maker... fuck me to death.” He barely recognized his own voice as he spoke. He barely recognized his own self. Fenris shouted, burying himself within his body, and shuddered as he came a second time.

He was flipped onto his belly, pulled to his knees, and then Fenris was ramming his cock into him, yet again. 

“Yes... yes... yes...” Anders called out, shoving himself back on Fenris’ shaft with each thrust. A third time... the elf would come a third time... he was caught in Fenris' unending lust. His voice wailed and begged. The elf growled in response, ruthlessly plowing into him. Then, Fenris began to speak. 

“You’re mine, mage... mine... I will take you, and there is nothing you can do to stop it... you should never have joined me in this magic, because I will own you.” Fenris’ words served only to incite Anders’ fever. He sobbed with the overwhelming pleasure, loins pulling tight... so tight.

He was yanked upright, his back to the elf’s chest, as Fenris continued ramming into him. He felt the blood that still trailed from his neck consumed once more, the suction on the tender skin taking him over his peak. 

He wailed... coming... coming... his essence spending in great arcs as it shot from him. Fenris shouted, cock buried deep within him, his climax quaking through him. They remained upright, lurching together; finally crashing to the mattress.

The world was still, suspended in time, nothing moved but their lungs and their hearts.

Slowly, they came back to themselves. Shaking, Fenris moved, collapsing beside him. Anders lay as he was, and slowly turned his head to see the elf. Fenris faced him, blood covering his lips and chin. Anders could see deep scratches rounding over his shoulders; his work, though he didn’t recall doing it.

“I hurt you, again,” Fenris said, hoarsely. His fingers touched Anders’ neck, and came away red.

“No more than I did you,” he replied. He touched the scratches, and Fenris grunted.

“What happened?” the elf asked.

“The Need built up. You were in extreme pain.”

Fenris was reaching for him, pulling him close. He was surprised, but it felt good. Very good. Better than it should, really. 

“I said such... things.” Fenris said, haltingly.

“You were in Need.”

“I know you are not mine.”

“We both know that.”

“I drank your blood,” Fenris sounded dismayed.

“Yeah.” Anders used a thumb to try to wipe some of it off of the elf's face. It only smeared. He gave up.

“Why am I acting like this?” He sounded so lost, it broke Anders’ heart.

“It’s the magic, Fenris.”

“It never did that before.”

“You never let it go that far, before.” A tickle of a thought edged his mind. “Did you?”

“No.”

There was something important in what had happened. His brain was soup, though, lost in the lassitude of the most intense sex he’d ever had. 

“You’re thinking,” Fenris observed.

“Don’t be alarmed. I do it from time to time.”

A small smile curved the elf’s lips.

“Holy Maker. You’re smiling.”

“Don’t be alarmed. I do it from time to time.”

“I feel like this last, whole, slaking episode is telling me something.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure. My brain is still sloshing through my climax.”

“Mine, too.”

“I’m really exhausted. I need to get going before I fall unconscious.”

“Stay. Sleep here.”

Anders blinked at him in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

A familiar furrow appeared between Fenris’ brows. “No. It’s late, we’re both exhausted. I want to talk more about what you found in your exam when we wake. You’re in a bed. Sleep.”

It sounded wonderful. “One condition.”

“What?”

“Go wash the blood off of your face. While you’re gone, I’ll heal my neck. I’ll give you a healing potion for your scratches.”

“Agreed.”

Anders didn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well. Possibly as long ago as when he and Karl would sneak into each other’s bunks at the Circle. Safe and warm, held in his lover’s arms. 

It was a close analogy. To his complete and utter shock, Fenris kept hold of him most of the night. 

Never, never, would he have expected the elf to cuddle with him. They typically lay together a few moments after slaking each Need, to recover. This... this was... something else.

He let thoughts flow through his head, lying in the peace of early dawn. He was wrapped in the elf, literally; lithe, lyrium-lined limbs enfolded him. Say that three times fast, he thought. Facing one-another, he could see that Fenris still slept. Why was he suddenly so affectionate? What had sparked the possessive statements during the Need? They had to be related. The elf in question began to stir. Anders watched him wake, saw the sleepy green eyes open and focus on him.

“Morning,” Anders said.

Instead of a reply, Fenris pulled the mage into a blistering kiss. When his lips were released, Anders spoke, worried.

“Is the Need on you, again?”

Fenris only leaned over him, running a hand down his flank. “No,” he said, claiming his mouth once more. Anders’ heart pounded with both surprise and arousal. There was no trembling, no supplication, no desperation. Fenris was apparently kissing him simply because he wanted to. And, it was good.

As the elf’s mouth traveled from his lips to his neck, and down the column of his throat, Anders moaned. Pleasure was filling him, from just this much contact. “Fenris... what are you feeling?”

A muffled reply came from the curve of his neck and shoulder. “You.”

“You’ve never done this, before. Why now?”

“I want to. Do you wish me to stop? You need only say so.”

Did he? Fenris bit down on his neck, then, just enough to send shivers cascading down his body.

Fenris breathed in his ear, “Let me do this.”

Anders stopped questioning, and let the elf have his way.

This was so different from slaking the Need. This was... calm. Yet, no less exquisite. Fenris, in his right mind, uncompelled by a spell, was thorough in his lovemaking. 

“Do you like this?” he asked, mouth moving from nipple to nipple. With nibbles and sucking, he pulled sensation from them that Anders never suspected was there.

“Uh huh,” he panted, “Good.” 

Fenris continued this, as his hand slid down his belly, lightly tracing around his navel, and stroking into his thatch of pubic hair. Anders’ shaft was rising, but Fenris bypassed it completely. He hefted his sack, feeling the orbs within with gentle fingers, testing the texture of the skin. His fingers moved back, and stroked along his perineum, pressing against it.

“Mmmmmm,” Anders hummed. His belly heated with desire.

Fenris’ touch moved further back, and circled his entrance. Leaving his chest, the elf’s mouth claimed his lips in a kiss, then spoke against them. 

“I know you like this,” he murmured, fingers softly massaging the puckered skin.

“Uh huh...” he sighed. 

“Tell me if you like this, too,” he said, and disappeared between his legs. As Fenris’ mouth began to pleasure his nether hole, Anders cried out. This... was... amazing. The elf’s mouth moved between his balls and his ass, and attended both, in turn. Anders was tormented by the sensation. 

“... Yes... yes... I like it...” he struggled to say. He heard the elf chuckle. Fenris chuckled?

“I remember the first time I did this to you,” Fenris said, pulling Anders’ cock between his lips. The mage was panting. He remembered, too. It hadn’t been like this. He’d been appalled at what was happening. Fenris released his member, and spoke Anders’ thoughts as his hand stroked his length.

“You were an unwilling participant in the Need. Only my well-being allowed you to go through with it. You weren’t interested in using me. You have no idea how much that meant.”

Anders spoke with difficulty. “I would... never... oh, Maker... you’ve been... used enough....” Those talented fingers left his aching shaft and began to prepare his passage. 

“You’re still oiled from last night. Remember last night?”

“How could... I forget?” He gasped. Bliss began to overtake his mind.

“True. I never will. Yes, that’s it... ride my fingers, mage. You want this, don’t you? Tell me you want this.”

Anders bucked against the elf’s hand, groaning. “Maker, yes... I want this....”

“Yes. And, it’s me who shall give it to you.” Removing his fingers, Fenris moved above the mage. He lifted Anders’ legs up, to rest on his shoulders, and stroked into his body. 

Anders cried out in a hoarse voice. He was overwhelmed with ecstacy. He couldn’t move, in this position. His ass was Fenris’ for the taking, and he took it. All Anders could do was let it happen... blessedly, happily, let it happen.

“You’re so tight. So hot,” Fenris ground out, thrusting deeply. “Made for taking. Made for me to take. Feel how we fit together, mage?”

“Nnnnggggghhhhhhhhh....” 

“Lost your words... good. Just feel. Feel me take you. Feel me inside you, within your body. Uhhhhhhhhhh... feel... feeeeel....” Fenris stopped speaking, then, and applied himself to pounding Anders into the mattress. He had no idea what was happening with the elf, but he didn’t care, right now. The words, the actions, all so new, so erotic. 

“Take yourself in hand... I’m close... I want to feel you come.”

Taking his flushed, swollen cock in hand, he stroked. He shouted. He stroked. He thrashed his head on the pillow.

“Say my name....” came the cracking voice.

He stroked. “Fenris... Fenris... oh, Maker... Fenris!” Voice sobbing the elf’s name, he came, spending himself over his fingers and belly. 

Fenris lurched, gasped, and hot fluid filled him. A few more shallow thrusts, and the elf groaned with relief, letting Anders’ legs slide down from his shoulders. He slumped over the mage.

“Anders,” he whispered. 

It was noon before the mage made it back to his clinic. He felt wobbly on his legs. Last night had been beyond the pale. And, then, this morning, as well. And, then, as he’d gotten up to leave, Fenris had held his wrist, and quietly murmured, “Stay.”

So, he had.

Another round of unbelievable sex later, and he’d finally managed to get out of the mansion. He made his wobbly way to the clinic, and prepared for his day. Today, that included a tender few moments on the chamberpot. He’d had a lot of anal sex in his life, but nothing even distantly compared to what he’d had in the last twelve hours.

He got out his washtub, found his bucket of relatively clean water, and took a sponge bath. He’d considered using the mansion’s hot water and tub to bathe, but was certain the elf would convince him to stay even later, if he didn’t get out when he did.

He was a mess, covered inside and out with dried spend. He’d sweated his hair into impenetrable knots, and even he could smell the distinctive scent of sex wafting from him. He shook his head in disbelief. What the Void had gotten into that elf? Or, himself, for that matter? Fenris was lusty, without the Need. And, now, pleasure that usually overtook Anders once they’d joined, was affecting him in close proximity.

He found clean smalls and tunic, pulled his damp hair back into a tail, and ate a light lunch. He lit the lantern, and spent the rest of the day seeing to the patients who showed-up at his door.

He let his thoughts on the last day bounce around the back of his mind as he worked. Letting his subconscious unravel problems was usually successful. By evening, as he doused the lantern, he had a plan in the making.

He needed to sift through the magic in Fenris’ lyrium, again. He needed a good, solid feel for what was in there. He couldn’t let the elf reach that level of pain, again. Not only was it agonizing for the elf, but it had resulted in a very intense Need. Pleasurable as it had become, he feared what it might do to the magic’s power. Some magic responded to a variety of energies, and they already knew this one responded to sexual energy. Last night’s excessive pain and pleasure could, potentially, alter the magic’s resonance.

Once Fenris got to a certain depth of Need, he was unable to think clearly, which was how he’d ended up in such dire straights last night. He wasn’t able to alert the mage. Anders couldn’t focus on the diagnostics, as well as keep watch on the elf. Short of having a third party in the room to monitor Fenris’ status, he wasn’t sure what they could do.

He might be able to knock the elf out, give him a potion, so he slept through the process. Yet, it would be very difficult to find all the parts of this magic, if they weren’t all lit up, such as during the Need. It was a tangle in a snarl in a knot, inside that lyrium. Danarius had really made a mess.

Anders got up and left the clinic, heading for the Hanged Man. He was hungry. And, the two men he needed to speak with would likely both be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before, and I'll say it again; based on what we saw and heard in Awakenings, neither Justice nor Anders would have bombed the Chantry as separate beings. It's just not who they are. IMHO, of course. 
> 
> That magic is doing stuff. And, things.


	6. Arousal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris wants.
> 
> Anders learns something startling about the magic.

The Hanged Man was busy. Both of the men he wanted to speak with were there. Everyone was there. It had been a long time since Anders had simply hung-out at the tavern. He saw Fenris, nodding as Hawke spoke to him. Varric and Isabela were laughing with, or at, Merrill over a hand of cards. Aveline and Donnic had their heads together at the end of the table.

As he approached, Fenris suddenly looked up, as though sensing him. He didn’t smile, exactly, but his eyes brightened, and lips curled slightly. Anders felt himself smile back. Hawke followed the elf’s gaze, and looked at the mage with surprise.

“Anders! Good to see you! Been a while since you graced the tavern with your presence.”

“Hawke. Thought I’d find some dinner.” The rest of the table turned in surprise, as well, and welcomed him. Fenris gave a slight tilt of his head toward the empty space next to him. Anders moved around to sit between he and Isabela. A barmaid came his way, and he placed his order.

“Where you been keeping yourself, Blondie?”

“You know, that Darktown clinic you pay protection for?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“You need to come out of the dark, sometimes, sweet thing,” Isabela said. “All work and no play makes Anders a dull boy.”

He could feel the heat of Fenris’ leg where it had become nestled against his thigh. He listened to the chatter, trying to ignore the man beside him. It was impossible; just sitting next to him made him heat inside. He glanced at the elf, and met the gaze trained on him.

He rarely saw Fenris except when slaking the Need. It was almost surreal to sit next to him without undressing for what would turn into toe-curling sex. 

“You two alright?” Hawke asked. Anders realized they’d been staring at each other for quite a while. Both broke their eye contact.

“Yes. Actually, I need to talk to Fenris about something. Varric, mind if I borrow your room a minute?”

Varric was dealing cards, and didn’t look up to answer. “What’s mine is yours, Blondie. Help yourself.”

He led the elf up the stairs, and into the dwarf’s suite. As soon as the door was shut, he was pulled into a heated kiss. He returned it as eagerly as it was given. When he was steered toward the bed alcove, however, he made his mind take over his too-willing body.

“Fenris... Fenris, I really do need to talk to you.”

The elf pulled away, breathless. “What is it?”

“Whew... let me catch my breath.” He paced the room, moving so the table was between them. “I need to get another good feel of those spells in your lyrium.”

“Right now?”

“Maker, no! Not here. But, when I do, I’ll need to be able to focus on what I’m doing. I can’t do that if I’m watching to be sure you don’t go too deep in the Need.”

“What do you suggest?”

“We need a third party to--”

“No.”

“I was thinking--”

“No.”

“Fenris--”

“I will not have anyone see me in that state.”

“Hawke’s already seen you.”

“Hawke?”

“You trust him, right? He hasn’t talked about what happened to you the first time. And, I wouldn’t let him see you when the pain turns to pleasure, Fenris. You have to trust me for that.”

Fenris scowled. “I do trust you for that. You want Hawke to alert you when I reach a certain point of pain, and then...?”

“He’ll leave. He’ll leave the room, shut the door, and leave the house. I won’t touch you until he’s gone.”

He could see the elf was mulling it over. “Alright.”

They brought Hawke up to the room to ask if he’d be willing to help. He was, which Anders expected. Hawke was the kind of guy who helped his friends. 

“What kind of magic is it, do you know?”

“Not exactly. I can’t get a good enough look. I lose myself while examining it, and Fenris gets too deep in pain to get my attention. That’s what you’ll be there for.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

Fenris caught Anders’ eye. “But, once you’ve alerted me, you need to agree to leave. Right then, no questions.”

“Why? What happens?”

“The treatment’s kind of personal.”

“Right.” Hawke nodded. “When?”

“Fenris? It’s still your party,” Anders said.

“The magic surges again in two nights.”

“I’ll be at your mansion in two nights, at sundown,” Hawke said. He exited the room, and left Anders sitting next to Fenris on the tabletop. 

“Easy-peasy,” Anders said, smiling at the elf. Fenris curled the corners of his mouth up.

“Shall we head down?” Anders asked. “I really do need to eat.”

“I’ve got something to fill your mouth.”

“You did not just say that.”

“I did just say that.”

“I’m not sucking you off in Varric’s room at the Hanged Man.”

“Then, I’ll suck you off.”

“What has gotten into you?”

“You know what’s been getting into me. And, what’s been getting into you.”

“Seriously, Fenris. I’m kind of concerned that this magic is affecting you in different ways.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“I feel fine. Is it so strange that I would develop an affinity for the man who’s been so helpful to me? Who’s generous, and devoted, and uses his magic for good, and uses his body to pleasure mine when I’m in Need?”

“... and, who’s also an abomination, and wants to free mages? Yes, those last two do make it strange.”

“Perhaps. Yet, I find myself drawn to you. I enjoy your company; even when you’re insufferable.”

“When am I insufferable?”

“When you won’t let me have my way.” Fenris took off his gauntlets, and slid his hand along Anders’ thigh, up under his tunic, and over the rapidly growing bulge at his crotch. “Let me pleasure you, Anders.”

All thought of refusal fled his mind as the elf’s lips descended over his own. 

It was fast and frantic. Before he knew it, Anders had been bent over the low table, pants dropped, ass prepared, and Fenris in him. He couldn’t believe the rapid ascent his pleasure took. Fenris pumped into him, breath rasping in his ear.

“Perfect, Anders... perfect. You give me my way... yes....” 

Anders panted, voiceless. Why did he question this? What did it matter if Fenris wanted him? What they did together felt good. So... fucking... good. He’d gone from soft to dripping precome in mere moments. 

“I’m going to fill you... and, you’re going to walk back down... and, have your supper... with my seed still hot in your belly... and none will be the wiser.”

Anders cried out, and a hand clamped over his mouth. He was spiraling up toward climax. He shouted into the muffling palm as he was fucked on Varric’s table, Fenris gasping into his neck.

“You want this... you want me... venhedis, I can’t get enough of you...”

With a groaning cry into the elf’s hand, Anders came. Fenris quickly followed, letting his shout echo into the room. His hips shoved hard against Anders, spending deep within, leaving all that he had inside of the mage. As he stood to pull his trousers back up, Fenris smoothed Anders’ hair back, and wiped the sweat from his face with his hands. With a lingering kiss, he led the way back into the tavern, pulling on his gauntlets.

Anders’ stew was waiting for him. He took his seat next to the elf, finding it hard to meet the eyes of those at the table. He tried to look casual, as though he’d not just been bent over and thoroughly ravished. He caught both Isabela and Varric peering at him intently. He turned his attention to his stew.

After a few bites, Hawke asked, “How’s the mystery stew, tonight?” He shrugged with his mouth full.

Fenris calmly asked, “Is it hot in your belly?”

Anders choked, coughing and laughing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. Isabela pounded on his back as Hawke shoved his ale at him to clear his throat. After finally catching his breath, he told everyone he was fine, and went back to eating. Isabela continued rubbing his back, until a gauntleted hand snatched her wrist.

“He said he’s fine, wench.”

Anders looked at the elf in shock. He looked at Isabela, whose eyes had narrowed and was now flicking her gaze between the two of them. She grinned playfully.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize he was spoken for.”

The elf’s face began to burn red.

“Hey, ok, everybody,” Anders said. “I said I’m fine, thanks Isabela. I’m good Fenris; why don’t you go get an ale? Everything’s fine here.”

Looking at him intently, Fenris nodded, and left to get a drink from the bar.

“Well, what’s happening in that dark, spooky mansion in Hightown?” the pirate asked.

Hawke answered. “He’s been dealing with Danarius-shit left over after the bastard died, that’s what. Give him a break.”

“Shit you’re helping him with, I suppose?” she directed at Anders.

“I’m a healer, Isabela. I can neither confirm, nor deny, whom I do, or do not, treat.”

“Ugh. You’re such a fuddy-duddy.”

“Fuddy-duddy, Rivaini?” Varric laughed. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“No, but I’ve kissed a lot of other mothers with this mouth.”

“Really? Name three.”

By the time Fenris returned with his half-empty mug, he was calm. Varric and Isabela were still arguing over how many mothers she'd actually kissed, wedded or otherwise. 

Anders cut a sideways look at the elf taking a drink. 

“Yes,” he said. “It does sit hot in my belly.”

Fenris’ ale sprayed across the table, and spattered Hawke’s chest. The table burst into laughter. Hawke brushed at his shirt with a disgusted look.

“That’s it,” Hawke said. “You two don’t sit next to each other, anymore.”

Attempting a discreet exit wasn’t easy. He counted on Fenris wanting to leave separately, so he bid his farewell after finishing his stew. Pork. He was pretty sure it was pork.

He made it as far as the stairs to Darktown, when running footsteps closed-in on him. He swung around with his staff at the ready, only to see a white-haired elf jogging up to him.

“You left suddenly. Are you well?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Are you ok?”

“Fine.”

They stared at each other a moment, then Fenris spoke.

“Headed to the clinic?”

“Where else?” 

“You could come to my place.”

“Fenris... are you aroused, right now?”

The look on the elf’s face was priceless. Then, it changed to a more familiar scowl.

“I am. Yes. I’ve been aroused all day. I just had you in the tavern, and I’m aroused, again.”

“This was what I meant by the magic affecting you. You weren’t like this, before.”

“Do you truly wish to discuss this here?”

Anders looked around the Lowtown night. He sighed. “No, not here.”

“Come to the mansion.”

Anders followed.

They didn’t discuss it at the mansion, either. They barely got to the mansion. Fenris pulled him into every empty alley and alcove on the way, and kissed him senseless. By the time they reached his front door, Anders’ robes were hanging half off of him as Fenris sucked red marks into the skin of his neck. Once through the door, he found himself on his back in the entryway, being divested of his pants.

Hours later, he made his way into the elf’s bathroom. If he was going to be here, he was taking advantage of the mansion’s plumbing. He ran a hot bath, and sank into it with a rapturous sigh. This was a luxury he was seldom afforded.

Fenris was asleep in his bed, exhausted from their second escapade since leaving the tavern. Anders was exhausted, too, but the bathtub called to him like a siren. He was covered in his and Fenris’ leavings, again, and sweated through. He cast a healing spell on his stinging behind. Fenris took care to prepare him, but his ass took the brunt of their exertions. He wasn’t even sure where his clothing was. The entryway, he guessed, though he may have lost some in the Hightown market. 

He really needed to do a diagnostic on the elf. The odds of this new, 24/7 arousal being simple attraction to Anders, were slim. Whatever magic was at the heart of this, was certainly altering his behavior. Anders wondered if it was affecting himself, as well. He’d had a healthy appetite before Justice, but not like this. He wanted Fenris. Wanted him intensely, though much more pronounced when near him. 

It occurred to him.... Anders could perform a diagnostic spell on himself, right now, to see what was going on with this, and possibly with Justice. Settling comfortably in the steaming tub, he closed his eyes and delved within himself with his magic. 

He was not expecting what he found. The same magic that Fenris bore in his lyrium, was attached to his magical energy. This was purer than what he’d found in the elf; no additional energies in the mix. How in the Void had the magic gotten into his system? Ah... that first day he’d seen the elf in the Need. He’d tried to cast a diagnostic spell, and had been interrupted by a flow of energy from the elf, into the mage. That was when the Need had focused on Anders. Damned peculiar, though. Magic didn’t normally spread like a disease. Yet, here it was, not only attached to his magical energy, but surrounding the energy that he knew as Justice.

He and the spirit were one, yet, like mixing two colors of beads in a bowl, he could still sense their differing energies. And, what he sensed, now, was the spirit’s energy was overwhelmed with the strange magic now in both Anders and Fenris. 

This, then, was a form of control magic, judging by its effect on the spirit. This was why Justice had gone quiet, and sat so complacent within Anders. He was subdued by the magic. But, how did it work? And, why, was it placed in Fenris’ lyrium? And, what were the strange energies that were attached to the magic in Fenris? And... on a very personal note... was there any way that this magic could continue to subdue Justice? Because, this may be the miracle he’d longed for, ever since joining with the spirit.

So many questions ran through his mind. He didn’t know enough about the magic’s purpose to make valid conjectures. He’d need to learn more. He ceased his self-diagnostic spell, and opened his eyes. He yelped in surprise, splashing in the water. Fenris’ face was in front of him, watching him closely.

“Maker’s balls, Fenris! You scared the life out of me. What are you doing?”

“Checking on you. You’ve been in there a long time. The water’s gone cold.”

It had. He looked at his fingertips, and saw they were deeply pruned. This was why it was so hard to examine Fenris when he was in need. The process took time. Time the Need didn’t allow.

“I was lost in thought,” he said. He started to tell the elf what he’d discovered, but was distracted by Fenris’ compelling gaze. The simmering want in his belly began to heat. “Join me?”

Fenris smirked. “The water’s freezing. You join me.” He helped Anders out of the tub, and very carefully dried him. He wrapped him in the towel, and swept him into his arms.

“What are you doing?” He felt both ridiculous and rapturous to be swept off of his feet and carried into the bedroom.

“Taking care of you. I changed the bedding; it was getting rank. I’m going to tuck you in, then take a bath, myself. You must be exhausted. You worked in the clinic after leaving here, today, didn’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. I bet you slept after I left.”

Fenris had, indeed changed the bedding. He lay Anders on the clean sheets, pulled away the towel, and covered him with the fresh blankets.

“As a matter of fact, I did sleep. You work too hard. You put everyone else before yourself, including me. I’ll control my overactive libido, and let you sleep.”

His thoughtfulness and sweet words just made Anders want him, more. But, as a huge yawn cracked his jaw, he decided the elf was right. Accepting a warm, lingering kiss, he watched the elf saunter naked from the room. Then, he closed his eyes, and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over Varric's table. Mmmmmmm.
> 
> Protective Fenris. Mmmmmmm.


	7. Master or Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders gets closer to understanding what the magic is.
> 
> And, receives interesting advice regarding the plight of Gallows mages.
> 
> Fenris expresses himself in a bold new way.

The next day, he again let his thoughts on the magic, and Fenris’ affliction, bounce about the back of his brain. He treated his patients in the clinic, and by late afternoon, a plan had formed. 

He made his way to Hightown. The elf was happy to see him, and, Anders was filled with a need to get closer. Before they could get distracted with physical pleasures, he got his attention.

“I have something to tell you, and we can’t get distracted. Sit on your bed, and hush.”

Looking confused, Fenris did as bade. Anders took a bench across the room. Then, he described what he discovered in his self-diagnosis in the bathtub the night before.

Now, Fenris looked surprised, as well as confused. He sat quietly, with the look that Anders knew meant he was mulling things through.

“It’s in you, too.”

“Yes.”

“And, controlling the demon.”

“Spirit. And, yes. He’s quiescent, now. He’s calm and content--” his voice caught, and he swallowed. “... and Fenris, I’m so damned happy. I just pray this magic stays benign.” 

The elf met his gaze, and nodded, a slight smile curving his lips. “The magic isn’t hurting you? Like it does me?”

“I don’t think this magic is what’s hurting you. It’s the strange stuff attached to it. I mean, it’s all strange, I haven’t got a clue what the magic in us is. You really think Danarius could have invented a form of magic this powerful?”

“Yes.” Anders was a bit taken aback by the confidence of that reply. “I told you, he was brilliant. He was known throughout the Imperium. Would you think I could survive having lyrium implanted in my body, let alone be able to use it as I do?”

“You have a point. Was he working on something, that this may have been related to?”

Fenris shrugged. “He was always working on things. I was often a witness, or an unwitting participant, but he didn’t discuss his work with me.”

Anders finally couldn’t resist the draw to the elf, and joined him on the bed, pulling him to lie down and kiss him. Fenris responded enthusiastically, but didn’t try to seduce him further. He brushed Anders’ work-mussed hair back.

“I’m more pleased than you know, that your demon is controlled.”

“So am I. And Fenris, he’s not a demon. He’s just a Fade spirit.”

“It’s in you, and made you do terrible things. That bespeaks demon, to me.”

“Maybe I’m the demon, and I made Justice do terrible things. Ever think of that?”

“No. That’s ridiculous. You’re a good man, Anders.”

“Not always.”

Fenris looked closely at him. “Something on your mind?”

“Nothing I want to share.”

“Understood. I have a few of those ‘somethings’, as well.”

“I bet. You’ve had some serious shit in your life.”

“As have you.”

“I don’t know. I think my life’s been fairly mild, considering what other mages go through, every day.”

“Such as?”

“Really?? You want me to tell you about the mage plight?” That was unexpected. It also made him nervous. Normally, he could expect the elf to rip his views to shreds. Perhaps this wasn’t a good topic to explore.

“Tell me.”

Anders began to speak. “The Gallows is famous for its cruelty. When I learned Karl was being sent there, I nearly died of fear. My heart broke to lose him, but what hurt most was imagining what could happen to him, there. When I finally came to Kirkwall, and we were able to speak, he told me the rumors about the Gallows didn’t do it justice. Yes, I see the irony of that statement.”

“What rumors?”

“Everything, Fenris. From confinement to quarters, to isolation, to forced labor. That’s just the sanctioned treatment. From there, starvation, torture, rape, illegal Tranquility.”

“How does this occur without those in command knowing about it?”

“Those in command do know about it. That’s the problem. Meredith simply turns a blind eye. Mages have told me she believes the torture and starvation are justified in learning what can cause a mage to turn to a demon for help. Rape seems to happen mostly to the Tranquil. They don’t fight back, they just do what they’re told. I suppose the templars consider them willing.”

Fenris looked appalled. “Tranquil cannot choose for themselves. That’s equivalent to attacking someone who is not of sound mind.”

“Exactly. And, if a mage is attacked, and fights back, they get the brand. If a mage complains about the food, they risk the brand. If a mage complains about anything, they risk the brand. Chantry rulings state that only a mage who cannot, or will not, control their magic can be made Tranquil. The Gallows ignores that rule.”

“The Chantry governs the Circles, does it not? Why have they not been told?”

“They have been, Fenris. Repeatedly. Kirkwall historically has a problem with blood mages. The Chantry finds Meredith’s methods harsh, but reasonable when one considers the dangers she is addressing.”

“I agree harsh methods are called for... but rape and torture are not excusable.”

“I don’t agree with harsh methods, of any kind. But, I’m gratified to hear you say the rest, at least. ”

Fenris was quiet for a long while. 

“I don’t like what you have told me.”

“I don’t like it, either.”

“You have not spoken of mage rights in some time.”

“I know. I’m in a quandary. I want to do something. I want to help. Yet, sneaking mages out in one’s and two’s is not the solution. Do you remember the three escaped mages Hawke searched for?”

“I do. One turned to blood magic, one summoned a demon, and one was a fool.”

“Right, that’s the problem. Most mages don’t know how to live in society. And many become spooked, or get careless with desperation. Then, bad things happen. Change needs to come from the inside. And, I don’t know how to enact that.”

Fenris was quiet, again. It was really something, to watch the elf think. He was so focused. What Varric called brooding, and Isabela called smoldering, was simply deep thinking. 

“Many of those in the Circle have families, do they not?”

“Yes.”

“Why do their families not become involved?”

“Few Gallows mages are allowed to write letters. Those that are, are closely monitored. They wouldn’t be allowed to expose the truth.”

“You are not monitored. You could write letters to those families, and tell them what is happening in the Gallows. Letters, Anders, not that damned manifesto. A large number of questioning families, particularly nobles, would demand an investigation. A calm, detailed letter to each member of the Chantry hierarchy might not be amiss, either.”

Anders stared at the elf. “Fenris... you are brilliant!”

“Don’t be alarmed. It’s been known to happen.”

He was filled with hope. This was truly a beautiful, elegant plan. Much more likely to garner positive attention and results than setting unprepared mages loose in the city. And, no one had to die.

He pulled Fenris to him in a deep, grateful kiss. “Thank you, Fenris. Thank you, so much. You don’t know how I’ve sought for a better way. You don’t know what I’ve almost... thank you.”

“I am pleased to make you happy.” 

Over the next couple days, as Anders tried to formulate a letter to be sent to as many friends and families of the Gallows’ mages as possible, his quill would begin to write other words. And formulas. And theories.

He was interrupted by a hand squeezing his thigh under the tavern table. He was seated next the wall, parchment in front of him, scratching notes to himself. Glancing up, he saw the elf had joined those already in attendance for the evening.

“You look lost in thought.”

“I am. Something about this magic is tugging at me.”

Fenris looked at the notes before him. “Is that written in Trade?”

“Not entirely. It’s partly in magic script. Did Danarius specialize in any form of magic?”

“Blood magic.”

“Besides that.”

“Anything that gave power. He summoned demons, constantly.”

“What did he do with them?”

“He contained them. He talked to them. He tortured them. He killed them.”

“Andraste’s tits, he was like a bully with bugs.”

“An apt description.”

“No idea what he was trying to do?”

“Bend them to his will, I assume. He was always bending people to his will. Myself, more than any.”

Anders slid his hand onto the elf’s leg. “At least you bent him to yours, at the end.”

“Indeed. His spine bent cleanly to my will.”

“Gross.”

While Fenris was drawn into a card game, Anders continued with his thinking. He’d jotted notes to himself, trying to pull together all of the effects of the magic, on Fenris, himself, and Justice.

Fenris had pain, followed by lust. Sometimes fear. Was the lust need, or was need a separate thing? Must be separate, since lately, he’d had a lot of lust, with no accompanying need. A low level, continuous lust that did not slake. He’d also become domineering a few times, recently. 

Anders had noted he, himself, had become... well, not submissive, exactly. But, he’d begun to respond to certain things the elf said. Any strong statement, or command, Anders followed. When Fenris told him not to start an argument, he’d desisted. When he’d told Anders to stay, he’d stayed. When he’d wanted to pleasure him, he’d let him. 

And, if he thought he’d become submissive, it was nothing compared to Justice. He was utterly bound. Content, but bound. That described how Anders felt when Fenris gave him a directive. Content. When the elf said stay, he didn’t just stay, he wanted to stay. 

How did all those relate? What was the common denominator? He wanted to say control and submission. Certainly that’s what was happening to he and Justice. He’d say Fenris, too, but for the recent dominance he’d displayed. The magic was complex, too complex for a man like Danarius to implement simply for pleasure purposes. And, he hadn’t always used it for pleasure. Fenris said he often simply questioned him, and observed. Like an experiment, Anders thought. Like when Danarius had summoned demons.

The answer was there, he was sure of it. He just needed a few more pieces of the puzzle. He needed to know more about the energies attached to the magic in Fenris.

The evening Hawke was to arrive, both made bodily preparations. And this time, in deference to a third party’s presence, they each wore a loose dressing gown that could be easily shucked.

Fenris was beginning to tremble. He wasn’t in pain. He said he felt need, but wasn’t sure for what. They knew from experience if Anders touched him, that need would be for pleasure. So, with care, he was again restrained to the bedposts.

“If I think I can isolate and remove those energies, do you want me to go ahead and do that?”

“Yes, please,” the elf answered in a wavering voice. 

“Just what is it I’ve gotten into?” Hawke’s voice asked. He walked across the room, eyeing Fenris’ bonds with concern.

“It keeps him from acting-out when it gets too much for him,” Anders replied. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to prevent it reaching that level.”

“Alright, Fenris?” Hawke asked.

“Fine. We need to get started, soon.”

“Hawke, your job is to alert me if he reaches a point that takes his common sense.”

“Right. And, then leave,” Hawke supplied.

“As soon as I pull out of my spell, I’ll need you gone. And, don’t touch him... I’m not sure what that might do.”

“Fair enough.” 

Anders gave Fenris a nod, and began his diagnostic spell.

Now he had a better understanding of the strange magic, it was much easier and quicker to isolate the attached energies. The energy that had resonated with pain was gone, entirely. He could feel other energies, all of which had warped, or grown, since he’d last observed them. He could sense need and lust, most strongly. Then, there was something he could only describe as desperation, and... yes, there was a very dominant feeling energy. And, what was that-- 

Hawke’s voice pulled him from the depths of Fenris’ mess of magical afflictions. He found the elf quivering in the restraints, his eyes boring into him. He didn’t see any signs of pain, despite the intensity of his bearing.

“He’s talking some pretty weird stuff, Anders. I think you need to stop.”

“Fenris? What’s going on?”

“He has no place here... you’re mine,” the elf ground out. 

“Oh. Right. We saw something like this, last time. He--”

“GET OUT!” Fenris bellowed at Hawke. He was pulling against his restraints, trying to get at the warrior. Anders looked at him objectively. There was anger... domination... and.... 

“YOU WILL NOT HAVE HIM! HE IS MINE! I WILL KILL YOU!” 

... possessiveness. 

As the elf continued to fight the restraint, Anders felt he’d finally put the puzzle together. But, there was no time to mull it over, now. Fenris needed attention.

“You’d better go, Hawke.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him like this.”

“He won’t hurt me. I can calm him, but not while you’re here.”

The warrior made for the door, casting a doubtful look over his shoulder. He closed it behind him, and soon, Anders heard the front door close.

“Release me.” 

The command pulled at him. Fenris was so calm. Anders wondered if he might have critical thinking, seeing as he was not in pain.

“Can you think of another way to escape the bonds?”

“I need no other way. You will release me.” Anders resisted the command, again. That was an arrogant reply, and confirmed his hypothesis. 

“Why do you say that I am yours?”

“RELEASE ME!”

Anders’ hands willingly lifted, and tugged the knots’ release loops. He was yanked into the elf’s arms in an instant. His robe was opened, and a possessive hand slid down his body. He was suffused with desire. He wanted... wanted badly. Fenris spoke in a low, commanding tone.

“You are mine. Say it.”

“I am yours.” He was heated.

“This body is mine. Say it.”

“This body is yours.” He was burning.

Hands slid into his hair, caressing, carding through the strands.

“All that you are is mine. Say it.” 

“All that I am is yours.” He was inflamed.

Anders sank into the deep, heavy arousal surrounding them. He wanted to explore this. He willingly gave himself over to the elf’s commands.

“Please me.”

He nearly came from the words, alone. He eagerly set about following the dictate.

He worshipped the elf with his mouth. From head to toe, he kissed and sucked and licked Fenris’ delicious body. He was doing something right, judging by the response he got. 

As he began to enjoy Fenris’ weeping cock, his head was grasped and held as Fenris thrust into his mouth. It was too fast, too deep, to do a proper job of fellatio. He kept up as well as he could.

“This mouth is mine,” came the gravelly, gasping voice. “It has a long history of smart remarks and snide comments. This is a much better use.”

He began to choke around the elf’s length, gagging on the deep thrusts. Fenris pulled him up his body, and fucked his mouth with his tongue, instead. Anders clung to him, returning the kiss with fervor.

“This need is mine,” was muttered against his lips. “Say it.”

“This need is yours,” he gasped. He was dripping with want. 

“Roll over, mage. Roll over, and submit.”

He ardently did so, and shivered as hands stroked and massaged his buttocks and thighs.

“This ass is mine. Say it.”

“This ass is yours,” he moaned. He was breached by two fingers, ruthlessly finding and exploiting his sweet spot. His groans were loud, unchecked, and desperate.

“This pleasure is mine, too. You will not climax until instructed. Say it.”

“This pleasure is yours. I won’t climax until instructed. Maker, Fenris... I can’t take much more.”

“You’ll take what I give you, be it too little or too much.”

“Please... oh, fuck... please....” He was thrusting himself against the fingers that tormented him. He was going to come... he was so close... he was coming... he was coming.... Somehow--Maker only knew how--he held his climax back. It was not pleasant.

“Fenris! Fenris... unghhhhh... please-please-please....”

The elf removed his fingers, pulled Anders’ ass into the air, and thrust his cock into him. “Yes... this ass is mine....” He began a hard, deep rhythm. “Mine to torment... mine to pleasure... mine to take.”

Anders began to sob. The orgasm that sat just in reach would not come. His entire body was on the edge of bliss. His balls felt that they would explode. He shook with the agony of it. “Fenris... I need it.. let me come....” he groaned.

“That orgasm is mine, mage. Beg all you like. I’ll listen. I’ll listen, and do as I please.”

His thrusts stroked over Anders’ prostate, setting him on fire. He was on fire. He couldn’t take it.

“Please... I’ll do anything....” he gasped.

“Yes, you will.”

Anders wailed in frustration. A hand came down on his ass, with a resounding slap. He shouted in surprise, and his grip on the edge of orgasm nearly slipped. Another. Another. Each slap nearly pushed him into climax.

“Oh, Maker, Fenris, stop! I can’t....” 

“How badly do you want it?” Slap.

“So bad... so bad....” he was whining, and he didn’t care. He needed.

“Would you truly do anything?” Slap.

“Anything! Just let me come... please.”

He was yanked up by the hair, Fenris’ lips at his ear. “Would you be my slave?” Anders was jarred enough he thought clearly for an instant.

“Maker preserve me... no... no, Fenris....”

“You are my slave. Say it!”

“No.”

“Say it!”

“NO!”

Fenris pulled out of his body then, and Anders cried out in agony of need. He was flipped onto his back, seized into the elf’s arms, and re-entered. He howled, desperate. He’d never felt such all-consuming need.

“Maker, please!”

The elf was pounding into him, groaning as his pleasure rose. “I’m going to come... and you will follow....”

Fenris’ roaring climax was spectacular. Anders’ was immediately after, and excruciating in its intensity. He felt every exquisite spasm of his balls, every pulse of come from his cock, every convulsion that wracked his body. When it ended, he was sobbing. Tears flowed from his eyes as his body shook.

The elf’s voice was in his ear as he was gathered into his arms. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he sobbed. “No... I’m fine....” he clung to the elf as he released through his tears. 

As he settled down, into sniffles and sighs, soft lips pressed against his face. 

“I’m sorry,” Fenris whispered.

“For what?”

“The things I said. They were wrong.”

“They were arousing. I’ve never been taken to such heights. I didn’t know so much pleasure existed.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“I commanded you. Forced you to submit yourself.”

“I could have refused. In fact, I did. I refused to release the bonds until I was ready. I refused to tell you I was your slave.”

Fenris was quiet a moment. “True. Did you really enjoy what we did?”

“Did you miss the raging hard-on? Or, the combustive climax that brought me to tears?”

A small huff of air tickled his ear. “No. I missed neither of those.”

“You really went someplace you haven’t, before.”

“Why? Why did I do that?”

“I have an idea. You didn’t have any pain, did you?”

“No. Just need. And desire... but, more than lust. I also wanted... fasta vass.” He was clearly disturbed by what he’d felt.

“You wanted to possess me.”

“Yes. I did. I wanted you to be mine. Why do I keep doing that?” His voice was filled with self-disgust.

Anders tilted Fenris’ head so he had to look him in the eyes. “It’s not you. It’s the energies in you. I have a theory, and it’s a good one. Want to hear it?”

“I’m almost afraid to know.”

“Knowledge is power, Fenris. We can fix this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to acknowledge AO3 member, Pen, for inspiring Fenris' idea of letter writing. In a comment on another story, Pen mentioned Anders knocking on doors to spread the word of mage issues. I took that, and changed-it-up a bit. THANK YOU!
> 
> I've heard that dom-Fenris is actually the most prevalent characterization of my favorite elf. However, I tend to write him as sub, or neutral. So, this little scene was a lot of fun for me!
> 
> And, if you're ready to learn what Anders has determined, stay tuned!


	8. Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders shares his theory regarding the magic beleaguering Fenris, and himself.
> 
> Both men share a bit of their history.

Anders made himself comfortable to explain his theory of the magic and its accompanying energies.

“Let me tell you the story that I’ve written in my mind, after studying what’s in us both, and after observing our behaviors since we were thrown together in this.”

“Our behaviors? What have you done?”

“I’ll get to it. In the beginning, we have Danarius, who wanted to play with demons. He summoned them, and studied them, but controlling demons is always a dangerous proposition, especially for the long-term. So, he invented a demon-restraint magic, and put it in you, and used you as a test-subject. Those energies I found, attached to the restraint magic? They resonate with demonic attributes. He was testing the magic, to see how well it could control the varying types of demons.”

“I had demons in me? They’re still there??” Panic filled the handsome face.

“No, no, no. Demonic energy, either real or created, I don’t know how he did it. But, not actual demons. You’re not an abomination. There’s more to tell. Ready?”

Fenris wore a look of utmost relief. “Go ahead.”

“Demons are classified in a hierarchy of power. They often skip about that hierarchy, but the weakest are generally considered to be Fear, Rage, Hunger, and Despair. I’m pretty sure that most of your feelings during the Need stemmed from those. Now, I’m also pretty sure that Danarius had the restraint magic in himself, as well. He probably used it to release the energies from the restraint magic within you. And, he could calm those weaker energies when he’d released the restraint, by merely touching you. Desire is stronger than all those, so lust would then dominate. It needed stronger energy to be quelled... the climactic energy of the two people who contained the restraint magic.”

“He didn’t need to use the climactic energy. He could have just used the restraint magic.”

“That's right. He could have. I really think he just thought it was interesting to do it through sex. He got off on it. His goal with this magic wasn’t simple pleasure, like we’d originally thought. That was just a bonus he took advantage of... the sick bastard. Remember the things he said, when he showed your reaction to others?”

“He spoke of the hungry wolf, and the desire demon. Those weren’t just pet names, were they? He referred to the energies he loosed!”

“Exactly.”

“Then, why have I become so domineering and possessive?”

“Remember the first time I tied you up, and the pain got out of control before we coupled? I think that much pain warped the energies. See, when I did the diagnostic tonight, the pain energy was entirely gone. And, the need and lust energies were expanded. The lust energy may be warped, which is why it’s no longer controlled completely. Which would explain why you were such a horn-dog the last few days.”

“Horn-dog?”

“And, two energies that had been completely restrained, are now loose. I’m willing to bet, those were energies of a Pride demon, and an Envy demon. Those would explain the dominant, possessive behaviors you display during the Need. No way that Danarius was going to let those energies out until he knew he could get them back under control. So, you’d never experienced them, before. Now, remember, this is all just conjecture. It adds up, on paper. But, that doesn’t mean it’s fact.”

“It adds up in reality, as well.” The elf was looking at him with frank admiration. “You’re very smart, aren’t you?”

Anders blushed, something he hadn’t done since his teens. “I have my moments.”

“Can you get the demon energy out of me?”

“I’m fairly sure I can. A deep cleanse should do it. I can’t get the restraint out of you, though. Or, me, either. The way it’s embedded, in both of us... it would be like removing the yeast from a loaf of bread.”

“You said it’s not doing much to me, besides holding those demon energies, right?”

“Right. As far as I can tell.”

“And, it’s controlling your demon, so it’s good that it’s in you.”

“Well... it’s doing a little more than just that.”

“Venhedis... what more?”

“When you make a directive statement, or a command, I feel compelled to obey.”

“Obey? Why?” 

“Danarius designed this magic to control a demon. Justice is, essentially, that demon. Because I’m joined with him, I’m also affected by the magic, to a much lesser degree. Hence, I’m somewhat... submissive... to your will.”

Fenris looked horrified to hear this. “I’ve forced you... I made you say and do things.”

“No. You didn’t. I can resist. I’m urged, not forced.”

Fenris’ eyes held panic. Anders cupped his face in his hands. “Listen to me. Any time I followed any command you gave, it was of my own volition. I wanted you to pleasure me. I wanted to give myself to you. Remember, I refused to say I was your slave; I refused to release you until I wanted to. You haven't forced me to do anything, Fenris.”

The panic began to subside. 

“Better?”

Fenris nodded. 

“Good. Because, there’s just a little more. Nothing big.”

“I cannot take anymore.”

“This one’s not too bad. Remember how, in the beginning, I felt like the magic was affecting me during sex?”

Fenris looked wary. “Yes.”

“I think that when we're close, your pleasure resonates through the magic. That’s why it’s so much more intense for me.”

“You feel what I feel?”

“It’s the only thing that explains it. If I get the demon energies out of you, I can tell a lot more. Their presence interferes with, well, everything.”

“This is a lot to take in.”

“That's what my arse said.”

"Very funny, mage."

The elf was quiet for a long time. Anders was, too. They could very likely eliminate the Need, and the energies that were plaguing Fenris. Justice was subdued. Anders felt this had been an excellent bit of research and study on his part, if less comfortable on the elf’s. 

Gentle fingers tilted his head back, and a long, slow kiss met his lips. Fenris’ expression was soft.

“Will you stay the night?”

"I will.”

“You agree only to have access to the bathtub.”

“That, too. If you'll join me.”

Soaking in the hot bath with Fenris was a languid affair. Both tired, both a bit dazed by recent revelations. Fenris reclined against the opposite end of the tub.

“Could you use the restraint magic to lock the demon energies, as Danarius did?”

Anders’ head lay back, his eyes closed. “Maybe, eventually. I don’t know how to use this magic. It would take a lot of trial and error, and I have no idea what that would do to you.”

“Could I learn how to do it?”

“No. You don’t have magical energy to control it.”

“But, I can influence you.”

“That’s not through use of the magic. It’s through the magic’s effect on Justice, and me. You’d need to be a mage to actually control it.”

They were quiet again, enjoying the heat, the relaxation, and the peace. It was a short tub, but with knees bent, they were able to tuck their feet against each other’s hips, and sink into the warmth. 

Anders lifted one of the elf’s feet onto his lap, and began to massage. He worked his thumbs into the sole, making long strokes from heel to toe. He heard Fenris sigh. As he continued, he noticed a faint tingling all over his body. Like a ghost sensation, or a memory of a feeling. It felt pleasant.

“I can feel this,” he murmured to the elf. “It must feel good, to you.”

“Very good. You feel it on your feet?”

“Just an all over, almost-sensation.”

“I’ve never had my feet massaged.”

“I expected callouses on your sole. It’s smooth, like well-padded skin.”

Fenris pulled one of Anders’ feet onto his lap, and explored it. “You have such tender skin. How do you walk on these baby feet?”

“With shoes, of course. That feels nice.” Fenris had begun mimicking Anders’ massage motions. Lying in the tub, they massaged one another’s feet. In time, they returned to simply soaking in the warmth.

Anders thought about what he knew of the elf. He’d been unconscionably abused during his slavery. Had he ever had sex that wasn’t compelled by command, or magic? Had he ever had a special person that cared for him? 

“How long have you been free of Danarius?”

“Eleven years.”

“In that time, did you ever have a special someone?”

“You mean, a lover?”

“Right. Or, just someone you really cared about?”

“Hawke is special to me. He has never been a lover, but, he was my first friend. Donnic is becoming a friend, as well. Isabela has offered to have sex with me, but I’m not very comfortable with that idea.”

Anders chuckled. “Besides myself and Danarius, you’ve never been intimate with anyone?”

“No. I was not interested in sex after I left Danarius. It’s hard to carry such memories, and feel arousal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you ever pleasure yourself?”

“I have. But, the same memories tend to interfere. Perhaps, now that I’ve experienced a different kind of partner... well. Anyway. Do you pleasure yourself?”

“Chronically.”

Fenris chuckled. They lapsed into silent thoughts, again. Anders fervently hoped that what they’d shared would have positive, rather than negative, effects on the elf. He deserved some good, after so much bad. 

Anders was startled by a burst of bubbles in the water. He glanced at the placid face of the elf and chuckled.

“Oh, that’s nice.” 

“Wasn’t me,” came the calm reply.

“Must have been the other elf in the tub,” Anders said.

“Elves don’t break wind.” Fenris was holding back a smirk.

“You windy little liar. Everybody cuts the cheese.” He laughed at the stoic elf’s playful denial. 

“Why do they call it that?” the elf asked. “Cheese doesn’t stink.”

“Some cheese does. Some of that Orlesian delicacy is rank. Smells of death, tastes of sorrow.”

“What does sorrow taste like?”

“Orlesian cheese, apparently.” 

They lapsed into quiet, again. It was peaceful. When the water began to cool, Fenris turned the tap and added more hot.

“You have been intimate with many, have you not?” Fenris asked.

“I guess so. Few that were meaningful. Karl was my first love. We were together for years. We’d probably still be together, if he hadn’t been sent away. No. That’s not true. We’d probably be dead, killed battling the Blight, or when Uldred took over the Circle. I still miss him. He was the only person who ever really cared for me, after I left my parents. He didn’t deserve what he got.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. After Karl, there was never anyone... well, I was attracted to Hawke, for a long time. But, nothing came of it. He seems to prefer women.”

“You were attracted to Hawke? I admit, I felt drawn to him, as well. He was kind to me, and caring.”

“He’s a great guy. He’s just one of those really good people. I think he liked Aveline, a long time ago, but they never got together.”

“I believe you’re right. Now that you mention it, when he was helping her court Donnic, he said some things to that effect. Yet, he backed away when she wasn’t interested, and assisted them to find each other.”

“Like I said, he’s a great guy.” A huge yawn cracked his jaw. “I think I need to get dried-off and hit the sheets. You, too. We’ve both had an energetic evening.”

A sunny afternoon, a couple days later, took them to the outskirts of Kirkwall, on the way to the Wounded Coast. The ocean’s horizon was in the distance, hazy under the blue-gray sky. Anders paced the field they were in, looking for lichen that grew on sun-exposed rocks. Fenris walked nearby, ostensibly protecting him.

Anders had been amused by the elf’s desire to protect him. He didn’t need protection. He’d always handled himself on these forays. He’d finally shrugged. “Come if you like. You’ll be bored.”

The elf didn’t seem bored. He was a man who was comfortable in his own head. Anders knew Fenris was still struggling with nearly constant arousal. When they cleaned the demonic energies out of him, it should cease. The elf was doing a remarkable job of controlling his desire, though several times a day, he made overtures toward the mage. Anders was pleased to respond, when he did. For now, Fenris seemed comfortable. Anders left him to his thoughts, and searched for the lichen. 

“What is beyond that horizon?”

“Have you never seen a map of Thedas?”

“I have. I know the Ferelden lies to the south. But... what lies beyond, for someone who travels? What experience, what future?”

“Those are fairly existential questions. I imagine it would differ for each person. Certainly what I would expect is much different than what you would.”

“What would you expect?”

“Arrest. Tranquility. Execution. You pick, any are as likely as the others.”

“Would the Wardens not intervene?”

“Maybe. They’re not exactly clamoring for my return. My departure was... not tidy.”

“What happened?”

“What would you expect to find in Ferelden, Fenris?”

“Smooth segue. Avoiding something, mage?”

“Nothing escapes your notice, does it? Does that come from having been a bodyguard?”

“Still avoiding.”

“I don’t pressure you for tales you don’t wish told.”

“An exchange, then. I’ll tell you a tale, and you tell me one. That one.”

“I show you mine, you’ll show me yours?”

“We’re well past that.”

Anders sighed. “You’ve heard me talk about meeting Justice, right?”

“Yes. In the Wardens, when he possessed a corpse.”

“He kept telling me it was my duty to help mages still imprisoned in the Circles. I really didn’t care about anything other than my own freedom. But, he harped on about the justice and injustice of it all. Finally, it sank in.”

“The demon did that? That wasn’t just your personality?”

“I thought the Circles should be taken out of Chantry control, but I wasn’t zealous about it. He came to me, one day. Said he could help me bring justice to all mages, that together we could set things right. I agreed to join with him.”

“You accepted its offer.”

“There's a lot of judgement in your tone, for someone who accepted a Pride demon's offer, in the Fade.”

The elf flinched. “Go on.”

“After we joined, we were attacked by a templar-turned-Warden, and he wasn’t alone. Justice came through, and... Maker.”

“I’ve seen abomination attacks, Anders. I know what they do.”

“Not like this. I’ve never seen anything like this.” He shuddered. “When it was over, I ran.”

Fenris stood in the sunny field, ocean breeze ruffling his hair, looking at him with those unreadable eyes. The green hills behind him set-off the color of those eyes. Maker’s breath... he was beautiful.

“You melted them. Shredded them. Tore them limb from limb. Imbibed their flesh. That’s what unchecked abominations do when they attack.”

Anders’ hand went to his mouth. He never allowed himself to think of the battle’s aftermath. It made him feel sick. It terrified him. It used to bring Justice into roaring Vengeance-mode to remember his first battle as an abomination. Now, the spirit rested at ease.

“They were hanging from the trees, Fenris. They were... everywhere. On the ground, on the rocks, on me. When I sicked-up, there was...” he shook his head. “There’s a reason I don’t tell this story.”

“It won’t happen, again, Anders. It’s controlled, now. You are in charge of it.”

Absently, he nodded. He took deep breaths of the fresh sea air, smelled the flowers surrounding them. “What story will you tell?”

“What do you wish to hear?”

“Why did you finally run from Danarius?”

“So... we are to exchange our greatest shames.”

“That was definitely mine. But, you don’t have to tell me that one, of you don’t want to.”

Fenris shrugged. “Danarius was forced to leave me on Seheron when hostilities broke out. I was nearly killed. A group of indigenous people saved me. The Fog Warriors. I lived with them for months. It was the first time I knew freedom. The first time I was ever happy. Danarius found me, of course. And, commanded me to kill them. And, I did. They were my friends, they accepted me. Yet, I submitted to his will, and slaughtered them all.”

“Fenris, I’m sorry.”

“It compelled me to run, at the least. An entire village of good people bought my freedom with their lives. I was not worthy of the cost.”

Anders walked the short distance to the man who stood in the field with shoulders slumped. He took him in his arms, and simply held him. Fenris returned the embrace, burying his face into his neck. He felt the elf breathe-in his scent, open his mouth and taste his skin. 

“Mmmm,” Anders sighed. Fenris lifted his head, and looked into his eyes.

“You mean a great deal to me,” the elf said.

“You mean a lot to me, too.”

“What if it’s just the magic, the connection it puts between us, that makes me feel this way? What if it’s the demon energies, tricking me?”

Anders sighed. “It could be. Partly, or wholly. Or, not at all. Is it so strange that you’d be drawn to me?

“Yes. It is. You’re a mage. An abomination. You’re the last person in Thedas I would have tender feelings for.”

“Well, you decided that I’m a good mage, didn’t you? And, I’m only an abomination by technicality, now. Justice is safely tucked away. Maker, Fenris... can you believe that? I’m finally free of his control. I’m myself, again. You have no idea what a gift that is.”

“Do I not? Of all people, I rejoice in that, with you.”

Anders brushed ruffling white hair out of the elf’s eyes. “Yeah, I suppose you do.”

“Tonight, Hawke will come over. You can clean away the demon energies.”

“I’ll certainly try.”

Fenris brushed his lips over Anders’ in a gentle kiss that grew. He pulled away, and looked at the mage.

“Have you ever been pleasured under the open sky, in a field of wildflowers?”

So, the lust was pushing him, again. “Actually, yes. But, not by a handsome elf.”

Fenris smirked. “I’ll try to find one for you.”

As it turned out, he didn’t have to go far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's Anders' theory! 
> 
> Of course, Fenris doesn't trust his feelings, now. 
> 
> Just realized this is the first chapter with no sex! Well, they'll get it on in the wildflowers (watch out for bees!), but we don't get to see it. :-(


	9. You and Me, Both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders attempts to eradicate the demon energies.
> 
> An unexpected event compels both men to confessions.

That evening, Hawke was less alarmed by the position in which he found the elf, than he had been the first time. Fenris lay on the bed, trembling with undefined need, his wrists already restrained. 

“You remember the drill?” Anders asked him.

“I do.”

“Hawke, don’t stop him unless there’s danger,” Fenris said. “Let me carry-on like a fool. I want him to have the time it takes to get this done.”

“You sure, Fenris?” Anders asked. “You were overwhelmed, last time.”

“Hawke knows danger. He’ll know if it’s getting out of hand.”

Hawke nodded. “Can do.”

Anders nodded, and gave Fenris an encouraging smile. He cast his diagnostic spell, and delved into the elf’s magic-laden self.

He’d been correct in his assessment; the demonic energies needed only a basic magic cleanse to eradicate. The lesser energies were easily dealt with. The Desire energies were a bit more resistant, and took longer. He sensed that with each energy removed, those remaining gathered strength. Which meant the last two, the Pride and Envy energies, were stronger than they’d been before. As he worked on them, the back of his mind wondered just how much of a problem Fenris was giving Hawke. Both energies shone brightly, which meant they were in full force in the elf’s behavior.

After what seemed like a very long struggle, the Envy energy dissipated, leaving the demon-restraint magic empty. Without the energies, the restraint magic felt innocuous. There was no magical energy to which to attach, nor any spirit energy to control. Fenris should no longer feel the Need, nor have behaviors not his own. Carefully, Anders disengaged his magic, and came back to the world. 

The room was quiet, but there were signs of struggle. The bed was in shambles; pillows and blankets strewn about, the mattress off-kilter. Fenris lay, panting with exhaustion, one arm still tied to the bedframe. The other wrist also still bore a rope tied about it, but the rope had snapped from the bedpost. Hawke had apparently dealt with this by tying the elf’s ankles to the foot of the bed with his belt. 

Hawke was ducked behind the reading chair. He peaked out at both Anders and Fenris, then stood with a cocky grin. He hadn’t escaped unscathed. His face and arms were littered with welts, likely from the rope still tied about the elf’s wrist. He had a black eye, bloody lip, and his shirt was torn. Melted wax was stuck in his hair.

“He made a damn good effort at keeping me away from his mage,” he said, obviously impressed.

“I see that,” Anders said, evenly. 

Fenris spoke weakly. “I will still kill you, Hawke, if you ever tell anyone the things I said, tonight.”

“Trust me. Your secret’s safe with me. No one would be believe me, anyway.”

“Why? What did you say, Fenris?” Anders asked.

“I lacked all discretion,” the elf sighed. He phased his hands and feet free of the bindings.

“Need healing?” he asked both men.

“I do,” Hawke said, reclaiming his belt. “I’d rather not have to explain all this.” 

“Is that from the rope on his wrist?”

“Yep. He also kicked the crap out of me as I restrained his legs. Fenris, you have no idea how glad I am that you didn’t think to use the lyrium. You almost killed me with one hand, and both legs tied.”

Sitting up carefully, the elf nodded. “I was... driven.”

“Let me heal you downstairs, in case he still reacts to my magic,” Anders said.

“Yes, let’s. Good luck, Fenris.”

Hawke was chuckling as they walked down to the entry. “I’d have brought my shield if I’d known what I would be up against. Got a spell to get the wax out of my hair? He chucked a lit candle at me.”

“Uh... no. I bet Orana knows a trick for something like that. What, exactly, did he say, Hawke?” he asked as the walked down the steps to the entry.

“He was just staking his claim as dominant man in the room; tried to impress on me that you were his. I learned a lot more about your sexual adventures than I needed to know.”

“Oh, Maker’s balls!”

“Hey, all I have to say is, bravo! I never would have suspected. When did you two become intimate?”

“It’s a long story, and it was the effect of the magic. Please, keep a lid on this? I don’t care what anyone hears about me, but Fenris has had enough humiliation in his life. Seriously, Hawke. Don’t spread it around, for his sake.”

Hawke nodded. “No problem. I know he’s a private person. Heal me, then. You’ve got an elf to take care of.” 

Fenris was sitting in front of the fire in his dressing gown, downing a glass of water.

“He’ll keep tonight’s revelations to himself,” Anders said, sitting beside him.

“I know. Hawke’s a trustworthy man.” He looked at Anders. “How did it go? I feel... normal.”

“It went well, actually. The demon energies are gone. The restraint magic seems intact and benign.” He finally noticed the extent of the mess in the room. It looked like a miniature war-zone. All the items in reach of the bed had been thrown across the room. A broken drinking glass was at the base of the wall, a candle lay guttered in a large scorch-mark on the floor. Books were everywhere. The chair Hawke had retreated to was surrounded by objects the elf had obviously hurled at him. 

“What the hell did you do, while I was busy?” Anders asked.

“I... was asserting my dominance. And... rights to your body.”

“Tell me Hawke wasn’t reckless enough to challenge you.”

“Of course not. Until I freed my arm, he stayed behind the chair. But, he wouldn’t leave, which I took as challenge enough.” Fenris looked exhausted. 

“You need some healing?”

“No. But, perhaps you should cast some on me, anyway. Just to see how I react to your magic.”

The elf flashed with blue light. And... nothing. His soft smile met Anders’ grin.

Fenris took on his thinking expression. “I... feel that I understand better, how it was for you to experience the pressure your demon exerted. I was not myself. And, this was not even a sentient being, merely an aspect of it.”

“It was a lot of aspects. I’m still not entirely sure what those energies were.” Anders felt incredibly gratified by the elf’s statement. It hadn’t been easy living with Justice. It felt good to have someone see that. Fenris, of all people.

“They were probably the butchered remains of demons. Their energy remains, in any case. That would be in-line with Danarius’ methodology.”

“I cannot believe the things he did.” They were horrible. Horrible, and brilliant. It took serious talent to perform the magic he did. Talent, and cruelty.

“He was not alone. Most magisters play with Fade creatures. Few were as willing as he to play with the more dangerous demons.”

“Play with?”

“Weak Fade creatures are often enslaved. He likely would have eventually attempted to enslave a demon.”

“Maker’s breath. Fenris... you don’t think he would have put an actual demon inside you, do you?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. Imagine the power an abomination with my lyrium abilities would have. If Danarius held its leash, with the restraint magic, he’d be invincible.” 

Anders was astonished. And, horrified. Not only at the possibilities, but at the use of power Fenris described. Those ‘Fade creatures’ were likely sentient spirits, forced into slavery in the material world. Gentle spirits, such as those he contacted when he performed Spirit Healing. The elf’s opinion regarding Tevinter’s ungoverned magic had far more merit than Anders had previously suspected.

“Well,” he finally said, “they won’t affect you, any longer. You’re free of the Need.” 

“Thank you. Anders. For everything. I don’t know how to express my gratitude. I am in your debt.”

“No, you’re not. I got a fair trade, what with restraining Justice, and all.”

“I’m glad for that.”

Anders stood, then, and began to dress.

“You’re leaving?” Fenris looked surprised.

“Is there a reason I should stay?” The elf no longer required slaking. He no longer had a constant flow of lust from the demonic energy. Anders no longer needed to question him regarding Danarius’ work. There was a lot of ‘no longer’ between them. The only reason that remained for Anders to stay, was if the elf wanted him to.

Fenris didn’t reply, simply looked at him with fathomless eyes. Beautiful, fathomless eyes. Eyes that Anders would happily drown in. But, the elf said nothing. 

With a nod, he finished dressing. There was a feeling of incompletion, as though there still much that needed to be said. Yet, all that come to Anders’ lips was, “Well. I’ll see you when I see you.”

Then, he turned, and walked away. 

Anders was alone, again. Before he’d begun working with the elf, Anders had seen little of the rest of the companions. He knew it was in large part due to his Vengeance-driven mania and attitude. Since Justice had been contained, he’d enjoyed the recent visits to the tavern. Now that his mind was his own, he again found pleasure in company, and trivial conversation, and gambling. He’d especially found pleasure in the elf’s company and conversation. 

He’d gotten to know a side of Fenris that he’d never suspected, far beyond their sexual congress. He’d come to know his history, his reasons behind his opinions, his pain, his humor. He knew the foods he favored, the habits he maintained. He’d seen him in pain, in passion, vulnerable, and possessive. Knew his expressions, his smile, and his rare laughter. He knew his devotion to his friends, and his inner strength. 

Fenris talked with him, shared with him. He had even listened to him speak of the Gallows, had given him a plan to work on. He’d heard his story of joining with Justice, and shared his own story of regret and pain. He’d given Anders the most intense pleasure he’d ever experienced, and the most intimate moments he’d ever shared. Even their bath, last night, had been filled with intimacy that had nothing to do with sex. 

With a breaking heart, Anders came to the painful realization that he’d fallen for Fenris, and badly. During all of their time together, in bed and out, he’d learned the truth of who this elf was, and the beauty that resided within him. Unfortunately, this elf had also point-blank said Anders was the last person on Thedas for whom he’d have tender feelings. This attachment Anders felt would remain unrequited. Now that he was no longer affected by the energies, Fenris would never allow himself to care for an apostate abomination. Whatever affinity they’d found, would fade.

As badly as Anders hurt at this knowledge, heartache was not a stranger to the mage. It was his own fault, really. He’d known from the start that they’d only been thrown together by necessity. Now, he was alone, yearning for what he could not have. 

He turned his focus to healing. He occupied his time with drafting letters. He distracted his body with frequent, and unsatisfying, masturbation. Justice didn’t object, so he was free to indulge. Unfortunately, these indulgences seemed to always wear the elf’s face, and speak in the elf’s voice. 

He avoided the Hanged Man at night, knowing that seeing Fenris would only bring pain. He visited Varric during the day, and called on Hawke at his estate. He borrowed the dwarf’s printing blocks, to prepare his stacks of letters to mage families. When he told Hawke of his efforts, his friend was impressed with his peaceful enterprise, and offered to pay the cost of posting the completed missives. The day Hawke helped him carry the stacks of envelopes to Hightown to have them posted, Anders’ aching heart actually felt relief, if only for a while. 

He hadn’t seen the elf in over a month. He missed him, terribly. He felt like a fool, for it, but that’s simply how it was. Obviously, Fenris didn’t miss him. He’d not come to the clinic, and from what little he heard from Hawke and Varric, he wasn’t going to the tavern in the evenings. Clearly, he was avoiding the mage. Anders knew Fenris well enough to realize that things which had been said and done between them likely embarrassed him, now. Seeing Anders would only cause the elf more humiliation.

He went about healing the poor and downtrodden of the city, and visiting his few friends outside the tavern. Until one afternoon, a small group of mages came through the clinic’s door. He recognized one, and was surprised to see her out of the Gallows.

“Grace! What are you--”

There was a surge of magic, and everything went black.

When he came-to, he was lying on warm sand, looking up at blue sky, confused. A lovely, familiar face moved into view. Fenris looked anguished. The rest of Hawke’s group was behind him, carnage all around.

Anders remembered Grace arriving at the clinic, and being hit by a spell. He’d been attacked by the very mages he’d sought to help, sought to free. And, his friends had been forced to rescue him, at fair effort, if the amount of dead lying in the sand was any indicator. 

“Well, this is embarrassing,” he quipped, rubbing his forehead. “I never thought of myself as a damsel in distress.” He felt furious, and frightened, and betrayed. He’d tried to help those mages, and this was what they did in return?

“Are you alright?” Fenris was pulling him to his feet, running his hands over him, checking for injuries. The worry in his expression was aching. Anders could hardly take his eyes off of him. He filled his vision with the elf’s face, memorized his voice. He was pulled into strong arms, and collapsed into the embrace. Fenris’ voice whispered in his ear.

“I have never been so frightened. I didn’t know what they had done to you.”

“I’m alright,” he choked out.

“I’ve missed you, mage,” the elf’s raw voice whispered. “Every day, every night, you filled my thoughts and dreams. You walked out my door, and I let you go, and I've regretted it every moment since.”

“I’ve missed you, Fenris, so damn much.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

“Because, I’m the last person in Thedas you could care for.”

“Yet, you’re the only one in Thedas that I do.”

Anders began to weep. To his utter humiliation, he sobbed in the elf’s arms. 

“Shh... shh... shh.... It will be fine. I’ve got you.” Fenris rocked him gently where they stood, giving no indication that he intended to let him go.

“Thank you for coming for me,” he whispered through his tears.

“I’ll always come for you,” Fenris whispered back. “Come home with me.”

With a last sniffle, and drying of his eyes on his sleeve, he nodded. There was nothing he wanted more.

Fenris didn’t stray from Anders’ side on the entire journey home. He didn’t quite hold his hand, but Anders wouldn’t have been surprised, given the proximity he’d maintained. The rest of the group watched them curiously, but made no comments. There was an air of intimacy surrounding them that challenged intrusion.

Reaching the mansion, Fenris led him to the bath, and proceeded to groom him. He gave the mage gentle instructions, and Anders was happy to let himself be directed. He felt raw, and letting Fenris take charge was like a balm. He felt cared for, he felt protected, he felt cherished. 

Once clean and dry, the elf led him to the bed.

There was no sex, no arousal, no compulsion. There was, however, a great deal of holding and caressing. Fenris was tactile, even without the demon energies goading him. 

“If you missed me, why didn’t you tell me?” Anders asked.

“You made your desire to leave clear. You practically ran from the mansion.”

“What else could I do? When I asked if there was a reason I should stay, you were silent.”

“I was a coward. If I could go back, I would ask you to stay; tell you how I felt.”

“What would you have said?”

“That nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

Anders felt tears threaten, again, and hid his face in the elf’s shoulder.

“Stay, Anders. For good.”

“Fenris, I’m an apostate. If you’re with me, you’ll be hunted, hated. The whole world will be against us.”

“I’ve been hunted and hated most of my life. The world has always been against me. If you stay, all that would change, is I would no longer be alone. There would be someone who cares. Someone for whom I care. And, it is I who has these feelings for you, Anders, not some magic. Getting to know you was the most important thing that ever happened to me.”

The tears made good on their threat, and flowed. “Me, too,” was all his squeaky voice could manage. 

“Stay with me, Anders. Be safe in my home. Stay warm in my arms.”

Anders nodded, tears still flowing.

“Do you agree because you feel compelled?”

He shook his head. 

“Have you been rendered speechless?”

He nodded, sniffling.

“Well. I am alarmed. This has never been known to happen.”

Thumping the elf gently on his chest, Anders laughed through his drying tears. Finally, after the chaos and terror of the day, they found peace in each other’s arms. They slept. 

Morning brought further reacquaintance, of a more physical nature. Neither could keep their hands off of the other. Even after so many months of slaking the Need, leisurely exploring one another was an adventure.

“Your hair is so fine,” the elf said, running his fingers through it. “It’s like silk.”

Anders was doing the same to Fenris. “Yours is like goose down. It’s so soft and light that I’m not sure I’m touching it.”

Fenris’ fingers traveled down to Anders’ face. “I like your whisker stubble. It’s the only thing about you that’s rough.”

“You don’t have any. You don’t have to shave at all, do you?”

“Elves don’t have hair beyond their heads and eyebrows.”

“It’s very appealing. And, I love the way you smell,” the mage said, burying his nose in his neck. Warm. Spicy.

“You smell like sunshine,” Fenris said.

“What does sunshine smell like?”

“You.”

Anders chuckled.

“Your laughter, and your voice, are very soothing. I like how it sounds when you speak with your patients.”

“When have you heard me speak with my patients?”

“I’ve been with Hawke when he’s visited the clinic. I could hear you through the doorway. You’re a kind man, Anders. You treat people with respect.”

“I try to. 

“I also like how your voice sounds when you’re aroused. Husky and deep.”

“Fenris, your voice is like liquid sex.”

“Liquid sex?”

“Very good, is liquid sex.”

“You’re making that up. For a moment, I thought it might be a potion.”

“I’d make a fortune, if I could invent it.”

Hands caressed places more familiar from their slaking activities, though with entirely different intent. 

“You have not been circumcised,” Fenris said. “Is this typical in southern Thedas?”

“Well, I haven’t seen every penis, yet, but it seems to be the norm in Ferelden. There’s more of a mix in the Free Marches. You have been. Is that a Tevinter thing, or a slave thing?”

“Most males born in the Imperium are circumcised as infants. Many young noblemen like to decorate their genitals, as well.”

“Decorate?”

“Piercings, tattoos, things like that.”

“Piercings? Seriously? Where?”

The elf used his fingers to demonstrate. “Here... here... often here.”

“That’s... I don’t know. On one hand, it’s really exotic. On the other, not on your life. Do they just run about, showing them off?”

Fenris chuckled. “No. I’d see them when I accompanied Danarius to the bath houses. They do a lot of nipple piercing, too. And, ears, of course. You have one lobe that’s pierced.”

“Yeah. Did that on one of my escapes. I had a gold hoop, a gift from the Commander of the Grey, but I sold it for passage to Kirkwall. You do what you have to, when you’re on the run.”

Fenris nodded. “Indeed, you do. Elves have sensitive ears. Most don’t pierce them, by choice. Some masters put loops in the tips of their elven slaves’ ears, and attached leashes to them.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“It is. I suppose I was fortunate, in that respect. Danarius used a simple leash and collar.”

“Maker’s mercy, Fenris....” he whispered. He pulled the elf close, and kissed his cheeks and nose. When his lips next touched the elf’s, Fenris continued the kiss, slow, and soft. Lazy lips, sliding across one another. Sultry heat building between them. Tongues meeting carefully in a sinuous dance. Breath growing deeper, in a slow cadence that made every movement feel like syrup.

Anders felt the elf’s arousal through the magic that connected them. It was slow, patient. It seeped into him, mixing with his own, and kindled the flames of desire smoldering in his belly. 

Fenris’ hand slid slowly down his body, along ribs, waist, flank, thigh. His knee was hiked over the elf’s hip, to pull him closer. Anders stretched his body along the elf’s form, pressing every inch of them together that he could. How he’d longed for this, lying in his cot in Darktown. How he’d despaired that he’d never share this with the elf, again. 

Fenris’ lips left his mouth and traveled along his jaw, sliding along rasping stubble, down to the smooth skin if his neck. He paused, seeming to feel the pulse of blood in his throat. Pressing a kiss into the beat of life, his lips moved lower still, and pressed against his breastbone. He heard the elf’s honeyed voice.

“This heart is treasured by me. I will not have it stilled in the chaos to come. For chaos is close at hand, and will not be easily controlled. I want you with me, when that time arrives.”

“Then, I will be.”

“I wish to pleasure one another, Anders. For the first time, without magic compelling me. No magic... just our own desire.” His mouth traveled up, teeth gently scraping along his collarbone in tantalizing nips.

A small, pleased sigh escaped the mage. “But, there is magic. I can sense you through the magic within us.” 

Fenris’ tongue smoothed along the flesh he’d just bitten. “True. Yet, it is our own pleasure, not that of a demon’s shadow. Do not use your clever, slick spell, Anders. We will use only ourselves.”

Fenris was slow. Thorough. Patient. Caring. His mouth played the mage like an instrument. Each draw of his fingers along his flesh left trails of sensation tingling in their wake. He tasted Anders’ flesh, breathed his scent, stroked his skin. Anders’ body seemed to dance for him; a sinewy, twisting dance of desire. His desire; the elf’s desire. Both thrummed slowly in his body. His gasps and moans were muted by the heavy passion that had settled upon them. 

When the elf again claimed Anders’ mouth in a slow, plundering kiss, the mage let his hands travel down the smooth, lyrium-lined body pressed against him. He’d rarely had the chance to pleasure Fenris, in their slaking endeavors. It had more often been Fenris taking the lead, to bring Anders to readiness, or later, in dominant possession of the mage. 

The elf was lovely in both form and texture. Silky hair accentuated his huge, moss-green eyes. Plush lips beckoned, his jaw strong and fine. Warm, smooth skin over firm, graceful muscle. The flat chest and belly, strong haunches, long limbs. Anders explored them all with a healer’s sensitive hands. 

With a hungry moan, he took the elf’s shaft in his mouth. He’d had only a fleeting moment to do this, once before. Now, he took his time. The silky, mushroom head was mouthwatering simply to look at. Dragging his tongue over it, lapping the pearlescent drop of precome from its tip, was delectable. Following the slow pace Fenris had set, he took his time with the feast before him. 

He felt the elf shudder with his attentions, taking deep breaths as Anders sucked his flesh into his mouth and swallowed around it. Fenris’ scent and taste were luscious. Before he was ready to be done, he was pulled up to meet those perfect lips, again. 

Their hips aligned, and curled against each other. Heated, rigid cocks slid together. Fenris was still slick from his mouth, and the slide of their flesh was infinitely arousing. Mouths open together in a gasping, moaning kiss, they moved. 

Tingling pleasure radiated outward from his groin, down his ass and legs, up his back and shoulders. This was a simple, almost innocent, coupling, yet the eroticism was undeniable. His leg nestled between the elf’s, to bring them closer, to stoke the heat further.

Fenris slid one arm under Anders’ neck, to cup his head. The other wrapped about the small of his back, to pull him tightly against him. Rocking slowly together, cocks flushed and swollen, hot breaths met in the shared space of their kiss.

The decorous pace was no less arousing for its leisure. Anders’ gentle rise to passion was an exercise in patience. One that he was soon to fail. Fenris was making this last, making him writhe, making him whine for more of this slow, curling lovemaking.

The elf’s cock was impossibly hard, and stroking against his with a friction that was almost too much, yet not quite enough. Moaning with building need, he cracked his eyelids. Fenris was looking back, dilated pupils turning his green eyes black. Gazes locked, they moved together; neither above the other, neither penetrating the other, as equals.

The elf’s breath came in harsh gasps as his peak approached. Anders pulled Fenris closer, the heat and pressure building between their cocks and within his belly. Neither spoke, voices lost as tension grew. 

With little warning, Fenris shuddered violently and came, mouth open in a silent cry. 

Anders saw the beautiful face fill with ecstasy, felt Fenris’ intense, silent orgasm. With the first heat of the elf’s seed on his member, the mage arched into his climax; spending himself with gasp.

They lay in the comfort of one another’s arms. They listened to the sounds of Hightown waking. They watched the rising sun peek through the shades and dapple the walls. They felt one another breathe. Anders finally spoke, his whisper soft on the tender mood between them.

“When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the templars too much power if there was something you couldn’t stand to lose.” He buried his head in the elf’s chest. “It would kill me to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. Nothing is going to keep me from you.”

“Being with you, again, I feel like I’m dreaming. I’m still terrified I’ll wake up.”

Fenris stroked gentle fingers through his hair. 

“You’re awake, Anders. And, when you sleep, you will wake to find me still at your side.”

But, the next time Anders slept, he woke exhausted in his Darktown cot. After leaving Fenris with a tender kiss, he’d arrived at the clinic to discover Darktown was in the midst of an epidemic. A respiratory illness was spreading like wildfire. He’d been busy until after midnight. 

The elf had shown up past the dinner hour, concerned when Anders didn’t return to the mansion or the Hanged Man. The mage had shooed him away, afraid he’d catch whatever was going around. Fenris had reluctantly left, only to send a meal to him via messenger. More appreciative than he could ever express, it wasn’t until he’d dropped on his cot after midnight that he’d remembered to eat. 

It was several days before the problem came under control. Ignoring Anders’ directions, Fenris brought food for him, each day. He was more grateful than he could say for the elf’s thoughtfulness. Several people had died, not seeking help until they were too far along to treat successfully. Most were able to be treated. Though virulent, it was of short duration. Closing his door after the last patients left, Anders snuffed the lantern and made his way slowly toward Hightown.

Fenris met him as he came through the door.

“You look terrible.”

“Trust me, I feel worse than I look.”

A bath and a meal, later, he was tucked into their bed, the elf’s arms warm about him. With a deep and contented sigh, Anders let himself drift to sleep. 

He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Fenris can still kick ass with all but one limb tied down.
> 
> They're together!! Very important, in my stories.
> 
> There's one chapter yet to come....


	10. The Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are naughty, affectionate, and devoted.
> 
> Kirkwall is a mess.
> 
> The future is unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter.

When Anders woke, it was early evening. Fenris was lying beside him, watching him sleep.

“It’s only sundown? I feel pretty rested for just a few hours’ sleep.”

“It’s sundown on the second day.”

“Oh. Well, that explains it.”

Fenris was gazing at him with soft eyes.

“Do I see puppy eyes?”

“You do not. What you see is admiration for your devotion as a healer. Not that I’m surprised. I’ve experienced it, first hand.”

Anders shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“You do not understand what it means to those who are discounted by all others, to have someone like you care for them in their time of need.”

“I think I do.”

“How do you feel?”

“Not bad. I need the loo and to scrub a pound of sand from my eyes.”

“Do that, and let’s head to the Hanged Man.”

“Sure. I’m starved. Maybe there’ll be beef in the stew, tonight.”

“It’s never beef in the stew, Anders. It’s always nug.”

“Damn. Now you’ve ruined the mystery.”

“Growing up is hard.”

Once dressed, the elf looked at him critically. “You forgot something.”

Anders looked down at himself in confusion. “What?”

“This.” The elf was holding out a small box on his palm.

With a grin, Anders took it. Inside was a gleaming, gold hoop earring. It was very like the one he’d sold, years ago.

“You got this, for me?” He was dumfounded. And, touched.

“I did. Put it on.”

With a little effort, he punched through the long unused hole, and secured the hoop. A brief flash of healing magic, and he was admiring it in a mirror. 

“Fenris, this is great! Absolutely wonderful.” He leaned in and gave the elf a soft kiss. “Thank you.”

Fenris pulled him closer, and kissed him in return. “You’re welcome.”

The kiss went on. And, on. Anders felt himself rising and arousing. He felt the elf doing the same.

“You still want to go out?” he asked.

Fenris nodded. “We need to feed you.”

Anders grinned. “Worse comes to worse, we can borrow Varric’s table, again.”

Fenris snorted. “Don’t tempt me, mage.”

The usual suspects were at the tavern, minus Hawke, Donnic and Aveline.

“Hey, fellas,” Varric greeted them. “Blondie, I’m feeling that hoop on you. Looks good. Not that I’m biased, or anything.”

“Thanks. Where is everyone?”

“Hawke should be here, anytime,” Varric said. “Aveline and Donnic are stuck at the Keep. Aveline’s getting caught-up in more Gallows-related issues, lately. The city guard’s having a hard time holding onto their position, with Meredith pushing more and more templars into the Keep. She’s power-mad, I think was the crux of Aveline’s complaint.”

“Questionable as her methods are, the Knight Commander’s the only one holding back the madness in this city,” Fenris said. Anders turned from his stew to stare at him in disbelief.

“Holding back? She’s howling at the bloody moon!”

“She’s doing both, you ask me,” Varric said. “Can’t say she’s doing much for morale, though.”

“Morale is the last thing I’m worried about. You know there’s chaos brewing, Fenris, you said it yourself.”

“I still believe it. I also recognize that there’s more blood mages in this city than can be accounted for by most standards.”

Anders sighed. “You’re right about that, actually. There’s something fundamentally wrong with this city. I’ve never heard of so much blood magic in one place. But, I’m telling you, Meredith isn’t helping. She’s making it worse.”

“Have you mailed your letters, yet?”

“I did, weeks ago. I’m hoping to hear of complaints getting to the Gallows, soon.”

Hawke arrived just then, grinning. “Dogge trapped a thief in my wardrobe,” he said, stepping over a bench to take a seat. “Idiot was too scared to come out. Wish you could have been there!” 

“What did you do with him?” Varric asked.

“Gave him a headstart before I sent Dogge after him.”

“You’re getting soft, Hawke,” the dwarf chuckled.

“I try to cut the working-man a break, when I can.” He took-in Fenris and Anders sitting companionably side-by-side. “You two come to an understanding?”

They looked at each other in surprise. “An... understanding?” Fenris asked.

“Yes. Both of you have been avoiding each other for weeks. It was obvious you missed each other.”

“We needed to deal with our own issues,” Anders said. He didn’t know if Fenris was ready to make an open statement of relationship, yet. It might be obvious from their behavior on the Wounded Coast, but even there, they hadn’t revealed any romantic gestures. 

“Excellent! See, Fenris. I’ve been telling you for years, mages aren’t all bad.”

The elf smirked. “They’re good for a thing or two.” Anders kicked him under the table.

“Alert the Divine!” Varric declared. “Those are words I never thought I’d hear from the broody elf.”

“Just deal the cards, dwarf,” Fenris said.

A card game started, which would normally keep Fenris deeply focused. Tonight, that wasn’t the case. The elf was slowly making his way across the short distance that separated them, and up against the mage. Soon, Anders’ entire side was tingling with the heat of Fenris pressed against him. In time, he felt a hand at the small of his back, fingers making slow, gentle circles. He leaned his head to speak privately into the elf’s ear.

“I take it you don’t mind if the rest of our little group knows about our... status?”

“Do you?” Fenris replied, equally privately.

“Not really. I just didn’t peg you as someone to make public displays of affection.”

“I’m not exactly bending you over the table in the middle of the card game.”

“Well, there go my plans.” He rubbed his thigh against the elf’s, and felt himself begin to heat. He heard a low hum, almost a growl, emanate from Fenris. 

“Are you two in the game, or not?” Varric interrupted.

“It looks they’re in another game, entirely,” Isabela said. “I want to play their game.”

“You see that game everywhere you look, Rivaini. Not everyone’s shagging in secret.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Less than you imagine. I am a romance author, you know.”

Hawke snorted. “Varric? I hate to break it to you, but, that serial is dreadful.”

“You’ve read Swords and Shields? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Varric and Isabela both crowed, and began taunting the warrior, as Hawke defended his ‘only curious’ stance on the subject.

Anders took advantage of everyone’s distraction to slide his hand along the elf’s inner thigh. That growling hum sounded, again, as Fenris’ leg muscles twitched. Anders whispered, once more.

“Just how firm are you on that bend-over-the-table policy?”

“Firm is a very key word, right now.” Anders felt his insides melt at the liquid sex dripping from the elf’s voice. Their faces were nearly touching as they whispered in each other’s ears. It was all the mage could do to restrain himself from kissing that inviting mouth so close to his. He was definitely feeling the heat. 

As if reading his mind, the elf murmured, “You want to kiss me, right now, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

Fenris leaned in closer, barely making a sound as his lips moved against Anders’ ear. “You want me to bend you over this table, like I did upstairs, don’t you? Right here, in front of our friends; you want me to drop your breeches, take you, and make you come all over this filthy floor.”

“Holy Maker.” He bowed his head to conceal the flush he felt spreading over his face. His whole body, really. That voice... those words. His dick approved of that scenario. He knew Fenris was enjoying this; he could feel the elf’s arousal through the magic. 

“I would make you scream my name, so all of Lowtown knew who gave you that pleasure. Make you shudder and moan....”

Anders tried to control his breathing, control his body. With just two sentences out of the elf’s mouth, he was fully hard and inflamed. His lungs wanted to pant, his pelvis wanted to thrust. This was excruciatingly erotic. This was downright dirty. 

“I would bury myself in you... again, and again, until you couldn’t take it anymore....”

“Fenris....” he hissed warningly. He was dripping in his smalls. Between feeling his own ardor, and the elf’s, he couldn’t control his body’s reaction much longer.

“... I’d hold you as you writhed on my cock... feel your body tighten about me... watch your face as you climbed to your peak....”

“I’m gonna....” he choked. His dick was throbbing, he could barely hold still.

“Then... when your voice began to beg... when your cock was so hard it hurt... when I was just about to fill you with my seed.... ”

He couldn't take it, anymore....

“I would whisper into your ear....”

He whimpered.

“Come, Anders.”

At the nearly silent command, his body seized. Curling over himself, he pulsed into his trousers, biting back moans. Somehow, he wrapped his arms about himself and silently rode the waves that broke over him. 

He didn’t move as he recovered. He couldn’t look up. He’d just been brought to orgasm by the elf’s whispered words, right in front of their friends and the entire tavern. He was torn between delight and... no, there was no ‘and’ about it. That had been simply, and unbelievably, hot. 

Of course, now he had to face the faces.

“Blondie ok, over there?” he heard.

“I tell him to avoid the stew. He doesn’t listen,” came the elf’s smooth reply. “Do you need assistance home, mage?”

“Probably,” he managed to say.

“You two have been pretty chummy, lately, Broody. What’s the story?”

“He was assisting me with a problem. It required frequent association.”

Anders sputtered, trying not to laugh. 

“He sounds like he’s gonna be sick,” Hawke said. “If he vomits, I’ll vomit. Seriously, get him out of here.”

“Sensitive stomach, Hawke?” Varric teased.

“Anytime I see someone throw up....” 

Anders didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He let the elf stand him up and lead him out the door. Once outside, he was dragged into an alley, and shoved against the wall. His mouth was consumed. Fenris cupped his face with one hand, holding him still for his kiss. The other hand was working on the elf’s leggings.

“You have no idea how hard I am,” came the gravelly, deep voice. “If you hadn’t come right then, I really would have bent you over the table.” He was stroking himself furiously. 

Anders dropped to his knees, and took the rigid flesh in his mouth. Fenris groaned, his voice echoing in the dark alley. Using every trick and touch he knew, he relished the elf’s cock. He slurped his flesh, licked up his drippings, sucked down his beautiful shaft.

Fenris had his hands on the wall behind the mage, leaning on his arms. He thrust into his willing mouth, panting. Anders could feel the elf’s rising passion in his own, sated body.

Fenris cried out when his orgasm took him. His essence filled the mage’s mouth, and was greedily swallowed.

Anders caught Fenris as he wavered on his feet, standing to hold him while he recovered. 

“Venhedis, what you do to me.” He kissed Anders. “I can taste myself on you,” he said with a note of wonder.

“Mm-hm. Good stuff.”

Fenris snorted, tucking himself back into his leggings. “I’m glad you think so. Should we move on?”

“Now that we’ve each brought the other to climax in public? Our work here is done.”

Their predictions of chaos in the city came true, to both their dismay. It began small. Most of their information came from Aveline, who had frequent interaction and messages from Meredith. Aveline reported that sporadic complaints from friends and family members, regarding the treatment of mages, were reaching the Knight Commander’s office. 

Within weeks, the number of complaints and demands for explanation increased. Several groups of local recipients of Anders’ letters paid visits to the Gallows, and the results were not good. The sheer number of Tranquil astonished the visitors. Most damning was that several mages could not be accounted for, at all. No explanation was given as to their whereabouts.

The interest paid to the situation emboldened the mages, and angered many of the templars. Meredith grew increasingly paranoid. Only mages would have leaked such information, and she was determined to discover who, and how.

It came to a terrible head one day, with a relatively peaceful demonstration of mages on the Chantry steps. Meredith had demanded a full search of the Circle, and the mages objected. Elthina arrived to mediate, and try to comfort those families who were still in the city demanding to know why they could not see their loved ones, who had yet to be produced.

Stories would later differ, and all would carry an element of truth. In a fit of pique, Meredith called for an emergency Annulment of the Circle, declaring that the Gallows was under the control of blood mages who were creating lies to control the masses in Kirkwall. The mages fought back, of course. Then, a shield swung by a recruit sent a mage careening into the Grand Cleric, knocking her down the steps, and cracking her skull. Elthina was killed instantly. 

From there, it was bedlam.

Hawke had come flying into the mansion, calling for both Fenris and Anders. The rest of the crew was gathered, and they joined what became known as the Battle of Kirkwall. 

Many mages fled into the Chantry, seeking sanctuary, pursued by templars. The huge, ancient stonework withstood the battle, but the interior did not. Mothers, Sisters and Brothers were caught in the crossfire, and many innocents killed. On the street, it was similar. Civilian women in dresses were mistaken for mages in robes, and men who’d taken arm in their own defense were mistaken for off-duty templars.

Aveline and Donnic had arrived with the City Guard, and focused on the safety of the civilians. Hawke and his crew fought anyone fighting them, until finally Meredith and Orsino called a brief halt. Hawke was forced to choose which side to champion, and to Anders’ everlasting relief, he defended the mages.

It was ugly. The battle moved to the Gallows, and slaughter ensued. Orsino, in desperation, called upon blood magic. Meredith, in madness, revealed the sword she’d made from the red lyrium idol. It went from an ugly bedlam and slaughter, to full scale insanity.

Anders saw that Fenris kept him nearby when chaos came, just as he’d said. He was rarely out of his reach. All of Hawke’s crew fought with bravery and skill. In the end, Orsino and Meredith were both brought down. Untold mages, templars, and civilians were killed.

Hawke took the crew to his estate when the dust had settled. Much of Hightown was in disarray, and some areas nearly destroyed. Orana, terrified of the magic in the battle, could not be convinced to come out from under Leandra’s bed. Fenris, understanding her fear of fighting mages, spent nearly an hour calming her. Finally, assured that the battle was over, and that the mages in the house were Hawke’s compatriots, she left her refuge. She huddled with Sandal in the kitchen as Bohdan served them all drinks and food.

“Now what?” Varric asked. 

“No idea,” Hawke said. “We need to hear from Aveline. There’s a power vacuum that needs to be filled, in order for this city to rebuild.”

“You could be Viscount,” Isabela said to Hawke.

“Not likely. And, I don’t want to. I’m happy to help Aveline, but the Seneschal and nobles need to get this figured out on their own.”

Aveline showed up, hours later, exhausted and irritated.

“Idiots. All of them.”

“What’s the news?” Hawke asked.

“News? The city’s half-destroyed, there’s no leadership, and mages and templars are running amuck, even as we speak, in a fit of vengeance. Some are boarding ships out of the city.”

“Is this what you had wanted, Anders?” Fenris asked.

“No! How can you ask that? I had no idea that something so peaceful as writing letters would result in such chaos.”

“You sent out those letters?” Aveline asked, astonished. “She wasn’t so crazy, after all.”

“Are you mad, too? Of course she was crazy!” Anders said. 

“You filling families’ heads with your manifesto and wild tales....”

“I did not send my manifesto, nor did I tell wild tales. Varric, you tell her.”

“It’s true, Aveline. Blondie had me proof-read his letter. It was polite, truthful, and surprisingly lacking in rhetoric. But, it told it like it was. And, what it was, was bad. You know that, Aveline.”

She sighed. “I suppose I do.”

The dwarf continued. “If Meredith had that idol, you know she was around the bend. You saw what it did to Bartrand.”

“Cullen set-up a perimeter fence around... her. Keep the red lyrium from affecting anyone else,” Aveline said.

“So. What now? Is Cullen sending out templars to arrest us all for crimes against the Order?” Anders asked.

“No, he’s not arresting you, or Merrill, Anders. He considers you to be under Hawke’s supervision. Being Kirkwall’s Champion gives him more power than you might realize.”

“Really?” Hawke’s eyes lit up, the first sign of humor he’d displayed since returning. “Perhaps you should move-in to the estate, then, for a better reputation than Darktown or the Alienage gives.”

“He lives with me, Hawke,” Fenris stated unequivocally. “He is not moving into your home.”

“What?” the entire assemblage asked, with eyes wide. Except Hawke, Anders noticed, who was smirking. He set that up deliberately, he thought. 

“We are together, and I don’t want to hear anything about it,” the elf scowled.

“I do,” Isabela said. “I want to hear everything about it.”

The elf shot a narrow-eyed look at Hawke. Shaking his head, Hawke replied, “You’ll just have to use your imagination, Isabela.”

Late in the evening, Anders and Fenris made their way home. Their neighborhood was relatively unscathed. 

“I need a bath.”

“We both need baths, mage.”

“I have no clean clothes to wear.”

“We’ll wash them tonight. You can live wrapped in a blanket until they dry.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like you out of the blanket, actually.”

They washed their clothing, hung it in front of the hearth, then bathed. Soaking the soreness out of their muscles, they reclined in the bath, Anders’ back to Fenris front. 

“This is going to make my future very sketchy,” Anders said. “Mages running loose, with blade-happy templars chasing after them.”

“We will keep you safe. I will go with you to the clinic. Hawke will let you use his cellar entrance.”

“It’s not just that. This won’t be the end. There will be more rebellions. It’s overdue, and Circles everywhere are going to look at this as a catalyst. Unfortunately, this will make a lot of mages apostates, all over Thedas. People will fear them, simply because they are free.”

“They have reason to fear them.”

“Not all of them. Many will be like me, Fenris. Remember that.”

“My only concern is you. The rest must manage without me.”

“I don’t know how they can. I certainly can’t. You are the most important thing in my life.”

He felt arms come around him, and hold him tightly. Lips pressed against his temple.

He wrapped his arms over the elf’s, holding his embrace. He debated just a moment before confessing what lay in his heart. It was now, or never. 

“Fenris... I love you. I’ve been holding back from saying that. You shouldn’t be tied-down to a fugitive with no future. We have no idea what is to come.”

The elf breathed into his ear. “Anders, I’ve been a fugitive with no future for nearly ten years. I do not fear what is to come. If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side.”

Anders’ breath left him. He sank back against the elf, and lay wrapped in the warmth of his arms.

Fenris was the one shining light in his life. Whatever fate they shared, the elf would illuminate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> I'm going to admit, I might just have the same response Anders did, if Fenris started talking dirty in that liquid sex voice of his. 
> 
> This was the weirdest story I've written, for me. Really, it was just a bunch of sex scenes for my own fun. Sticking them in a story was bizarre.
> 
> Thanks for all your support and wonderful comments! You make writing FUN!
> 
> And... just curious... AO3 has no messaging or forums. Is there a forum out there that people like you go hang-out on? It would be fun to have conversations, and share plot/story ideas, you know? My hubby is supportive, but he can only take so much obsessive DA talk. ;-) I'm on a FB DA group, but I like you guys, better. <3


End file.
